


The Assassin's Gift

by Shadow_Chaser



Series: BBC Robin Hood Alternate Season 2 [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed, Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apple of Eden, BAMF Crusader!Robin, Crossover with Assassin's Creed, Dark fic, F/M, Gen, Gisbourne's past is haunting him, Pieces of Eden, Pieces of Eden shenanigans, Robin's past is haunting him, alternate season 2, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-16
Updated: 2008-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 40,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Chaser/pseuds/Shadow_Chaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Tournament" - An assassin hired by Gisborne plots to capture Robin Hood. But not all is right and the inch of truth is costlier. Crossover with Assassin's Creed, featuring Altaїr. -Post Season 1, Alternate Universe-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1: Plots

Robin Hood: The Assassin’s Gift

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  This story takes place roughly at the end of July, early August and crosses over with _Assassin’s Creed_.  I have two companion stories to this one, _Silence_ , a one-shot, and _Solace of Silence_ , which is in the process of being written and takes place one year prior to Robin’s return from the Holy Lands.

 

**Background Information:**

            In the game _Assassin’s Creed_ , Altaїr is tasked with eliminating nine targets who threaten the achievement of peace in the Holy Lands.  He discovers that it was all a deception by his former mentor Al Mualim, leader of the Assassin Order of Masyaf.  All ten, including Al Mualim were Templars, seekers of an object called the Piece of Eden which is so powerful, can tip the balance of the war and control the minds of others.  After killing Al Mualim, Altaїr is left with the Piece of Eden…

 

**Story:**

 

_Part 1 – Plots_

 

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

She crept along quietly, using the shadows and the blackness of her clothes wrapped around her to hide from the patrolling guards that walked around the castle halls during the dusk.  Her cloth padded feet made little to no noise as she ran swiftly down the halls, dark eyes darting this way and that, making sure she wasn’t spotted or worst, followed.

Hadiya was her given name and the only name she had lived with for the first twenty-seven years of her life; and she was the best.

She paused outside two rather large double doors, her form blending in with the shadows as she observed the two guards right outside of the door.  The door itself was slightly ajar and she could hear voices coming from within.  Angry voices.

“-the last time you’ve done it Gisborne?  Hm?”

“Milord there is-“

“I’m sick of excuses!  I don’t care what you do or who you employ, I want Hood dead!  Dead!  Do you hear me?!  D-E-A-D!”

“He has allies-“

“Then burn the villages!  Burn Locksley to the ground!  We all know that those sniveling peasants you have in your village are loyal to Hood!  Did you really think that by taking Hood’s titles and lands you would win over the hearts of your peasants-“

“Milord that is not fair.”

“Fair?!  I’ll tell you what’s fair Gisborne!  Fair is when I see the head of the King on a platter and my place at Prince John’s right hand side!  Fair is when I see Hood swinging-no, I want Hood’s head on a pike!”

Hadiya smiled behind the folds of the black cloths wrapped around her face, covering her whole head so that only her inky dark eyes showed.  That man was so boisterous and loud…it was a wonder that his _leftenant_ did not kill him on the spot.  She knew that he could have done it if he wanted to…  She shook her head slightly and drew out two small sharp knives and flicked them at the guards.

Blood spurted from both guards’ necks as the knives hit the main artery simultaneously and they collapsed to the floor in a messy clatter.  Wasting no time, Hadiya drew another knife and threw it into gap between the doors where it embedded itself into the walls right next to where the Sheriff’s ear was.

“Guards!  Guards!” she heard Sheriff Vaysey shout in exclamation and a crooked smile worked its way up her lips as she stepped out from the shadows and walked boldly towards the door just as it opened wide.

She immediately drew out her short sword and pointed it at the throat of Guy of Gisborne before he could even move and her eyes flashed a warning.  “Don’t move if you value your life,” she said in a clipped tone while her eyes traveled the man’s height.  Tall, dark-haired and still fair-skinned, she saw darkness in his eyes and something peculiar...

“Gisborne what are you-“

Hadiya forced Gisborne by sword point to turn around and expose the two of them.

“Oh,” all color drained out of the Sheriff’s face as he saw her and the sword she held to Gisborne’s throat.

“I could have killed you without even coming into the room, Sheriff,” she said, arching an eyebrow at the man who sat down in his seat, trying very hard not to let the fear in his eyes show on his expression.

“So why don’t you?” the Sheriff asked in a calm manner.

“Because you hired me,” she suddenly let her sword down and shoved Gisborne forward towards the Sheriff.  Sheathing her sword, she stared at the two of them just as the booted feet of some of the castle guards thundered to a stop outside of the room.  She smiled as she knew that dozens of swords and arrows were pointed at her back.

“Hired?  When did I hire an assassin to kill myself?”

“Hadiya,” was all Gisborne said but she smiled widely beneath the black cloth across her face as she turned to face him.

“So, you’ve remembered.”

“But I thought-“

“The Grand Master notified me when your request came through, Gisborne so I thought it prudent to come and visit these lands which your King split my brothers and sisters’ blood for.  I see that it’s for waste,” she gave a withering look to the Sheriff who just snorted, “and your master here holds you on such a pitiful leash.”

“He’s not-“

“Oh?  Then what are you, Gisborne?  Lawless and lordless?” she snorted, “trash fodder is what you’ve become.  You’ve grown soft and weak.  I should kill the both of you right now, but then, the war in my country would continue, wouldn’t it?”

“Gisborne?” by now, the Sheriff had gleaming crystals for eyes and Hadiya smiled slightly at the wolf-like look the man wore.  Now that was someone who had ambitions and plans…not like Gisborne who had apparently gone soft in the year he was away from the battlefield.

“My Lord, this is Hadiya of Arsuf.  I sent out a request for an assassin a month and a half ago after James failed.”

“Ooo, an assassin,” the Sheriff, now exuding confidence, stepped away from his desk and approached her.  “She’s Saracen is she not?”

“And you’re the Christian dog aren’t you?” Hadiya shot back, enjoying the look of shock that briefly appeared on the Sheriff’s face before he gave her a fake-plastered smile.

“My dear, I don’t really believe in God.  I believe in money, power, and the death of two people, the King and Robin Hood.  Those are the Gods I worship.”

“Then we can come to an agreement over one of those things.  I believe I can kill your Robin Hood-“

“Ah,” the Sheriff tutted slightly, earning a frown from Hadiya, “he’s not _my_ Robin Hood.  He’s now _your_ problem.”

“Payment?” she asked, holding out a black gloved hand.

“Half now, half when you bring me Hood, alive if possible.  If not, dead is fine,” the Sheriff dropped a small pouch of gold into her hand and she hid it under the folds of her clothes.

“This will take time, but in a week’s time, you will have _your_ Robin Hood’s head on a pike,” she echoed his words back to him, a smile on her face.

“A week?  Then I’ll be counting,” he gave her another sardonic smile before turning around and returning to his chair.

Hadiya gave Gisborne another brief look before spinning around and heading out of the door.  “Oh,” she called back, “you’ll need two new guards.  The ones out here are dead.”

Then she disappeared in a bang of blinding smoke.

Sheriff Vaysey glared at Guy of Gisborne, part of him secretly pleased that his Master-at-Arms had finally taken the initiative to do something that he hadn’t thought off, part of him angry at him that he had the gall to summon an assassin – yet a plan that he hadn’t thought of – who tried to kill him.  “She better be good, Gisborne, or it’s on your neck.”

“She’s good,” Gisborne massaged a part of his neck where she had dug the short sword painfully into without even pricking him.  “She’s the one who trained me to kill the King in the Holy Lands.”

                                    *                      *                      *

**OUTLAWS’ CAMP,** **SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

The camp was alive with laughter of the gang and Robin watched with amused eyes as almost everyone poked fun at Much’s cooking.  The only one who wasn’t was Allan-a-Dale, sitting quietly on a log a bit away from the camp fire, absently whittling away at a stick with a small knife.

Robin knew that the man still felt very guilty for nearly costing all of them their lives during the summer solstice tournament about a month ago and his betrayal of them ate at him.  Allan had insisted that he leave before he could cause them anymore harm, but through the efforts of the others, they convinced him to stay, saying that he needed friends at the moment instead of wandering around Sherwood and England alone.

Robin hadn’t said anything, but he didn’t object to Allan staying and knew that while the thief felt moderately guilty towards the others in the gang, it was through his own actions that he nearly killed Robin himself.  That part of the guilt was what had to be eating away at him.

Even when they had tried to save the populace of Nettlestone a couple of weeks ago, Allan had volunteered to stay at camp instead of helping them, saying that he would screw up again.  It was almost as if fear had consumed him and Robin knew that type fear all too well.  He had seen it in too many of his soldiers back in the Holy Land and knew that even he himself had been in its grasp a few times.

It was only through the intervention of a handful of people that got him back to his senses…for the most part.

He had told Much to try to talk to Allan like the way he had talked to him during his time in the Holy Lands, hoping that his former manservant could break the hold fear had on him.  So far it didn’t seem to be working, but Robin could see hints of the old Allan in the faint expressions the man had while he was whittling away at his stick.  At least the laughter and normalcy of the gang had started to work its way back into Allan; now if only he could convince Allan that the rest of the gang forgave him for his actions.

Robin didn’t know if he himself had truly forgiven Allan, but he did understand what he was trying to do.  If Marian had been in the same position as Anna- he suddenly cut the thought off, not wanting to think about how he had almost lost her again.

“Hey Robin!” Will’s cheerful voice called out and Robin snapped out of his musings just in time to catch two apples tossed at him by their resident carpenter.  He smiled as he caught them easily and began to juggle them.

“Wait, that looks fun,” Djaq grinned too before tossing another apple at him and he caught the third one in the middle of his juggling rotation before slowly standing up, making sure that he had his balance and rhythm going before he walked slowly towards them, knowing that all eyes were on him.

“Master,” his grin grew broader as he noticed Much shaking his head before resuming his cutting of the stew they were having tonight.

“Pretty good,” Little John pursed his lips and nodded a bit, seemingly unimpressed until he tossed him a fourth apple.  Robin quickly adjusted his rhythm with the other apples and let the fourth one join the other three.  The scattering of applause rang throughout the gang as he managed to keep all four from falling to the ground.

“How many more apples do we have?” he asked without breaking rhythm.

“Two more,” Djaq checked the basket of apples they had received from one of the farmers in Clun.

“Much!” he called out, and his friend turned slightly, shaking his head.

“No master, no,” he held up his hands, his chopping knife in one hand, “I’m not doing it.”

“Come on, pre-dinner entertainment!” Robin stared at him with pleading eyes.

“No,” Much shook his head, before crossing his arms, refusing to be goaded into juggling with him.  “The last time we did this no food was cooked and we had to cook in the dark!”

“Much, that was at the King’s Camp!  We had torch lights,” Robin continued juggling, “come on!”

“ _Master_ …no,” Much shook his head one last time before turning back around and continued to chop away at the vegetables.

Robin had to admire his friend’s resiliency and stubbornness and instead, tossed the four apples he had at John, Djaq, and Will.  “Hey Allan, heads up!” he called out to the sullen silent member of their gang before tossing him the last apple.

Allan looked up briefly, eyes surprised before catching the apple mid-air.  He just nodded his thanks before taking a bite out of the apple and returning to whittling away at another stick, a pile of them by him.  It was then that Robin realized Allan wasn’t just idly whittling away at sticks, he was making arrows…

A brief awkward silence filled the camp before Djaq cleared her throat noisily and took a huge bite out of her apple.  The rest of the gang took it as a cue to do their own things.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Will asked, munching on his own apple, “that’s pretty amazing.”

Robin shrugged, “During my time in the Holy Lands, some of the children would come by and ask if we had any food to spare.  One of the kids taught some of us how to juggle.”

“It’s not too hard,” Djaq came up to them, having finished her apple and held the two they had leftover in front of Will, “here, I’ll teach you.”

“My brother and I used to entertain ourselves when we were kids,” she placed the two apples in Will’s hands after he tossed his finished core into the camp fire; “you just need to keep a steady rhythm going.”

Robin left the two to their own devices and wandered over where Much was, “I’ll be back after dinner.  Keep an eye on Allan, all right?”

“Master where are you-“

“I’m checking up on Marian,” he said quietly and Much nodded silently, understanding his worry and his spontaneous juggling act.  The camp was in a tense mood lately and while none of them tried to show it, it was palpable with short responses and barely-there smiles.

“I’ll save you a plate,” he replied.

“Thanks,” Robin clapped him on the back before heading away from camp quietly.  He didn’t take any weapons with him since Knighton was just east of the camp and did not feel too worried that he was going to be ambushed.  The sun was setting and even if he was spotted by patrols or anyone, he knew Sherwood like the back of his hand and would be able to blend into the forest.

After all, who would be foolish enough to ambush Robin Hood in the forest that he had made his home?

                                    *                      *                      *

**KNIGHTON HALL**

 

If Marian didn’t know better, she would have thought that she wore some kind of big, fat, invisible sign that screamed damsel in distress to every unmarried man that came her way in the past two weeks since she had been recovering from the plague that wiped out half of the population of Nettlestone.

Her room was filled with gifts from potential suitors and while the more girlish part of her was pleased at the attention, the rational part of her, the part of her that she had been using since she became the Nightwatchman, was completely disgusted.  When her suitors had found out that the plague wasn’t contagious anymore, they came to shower her with gifts and words of comfort so much that when Guy came around and chased them away, she was tempted to thank him for stopping them.

Now she laid in bed, still feeling weak, but getting stronger every day, reading the most recent letter from Anna who wrote to her on a weekly basis since entering the nunnery at Rufford.  They were filled with both happy thoughts on her life there, yet tinged with sadness at the one she had left behind.

Marian never told Robin or anyone else about Anna’s letters, hoping that they would eventually forget about the ex-thief, since to them, she was technically dead.  It was only through her efforts that she managed to save Anna and send her secretly to Rufford.

A gentle knock on her window made her quickly hide the letter under her pillow and she looked up just in time to see Robin peeking his head in, a smile on his face.

“Robin,” she smiled before lifting herself off of her pillow and slipped out of the bed.

“Should you be up?” he asked as she gathered her robes around her and approached the window.

“I’m feeling better, stronger even, but the doctor says I should be able to walk around freely in a couple of days.”

“That’s good,” she noticed how sad he looked and reached out a hand to brush a part of his hair that had fallen across his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” she asked as he took her hand into his own and gently rubbed it.  A faint smile appeared on her face as she could feel the calluses he had on his hand against her own soft ones.

“My men aren’t happy.  We’re tense, afraid, and frankly, morale is low,” Robin said quietly, “so much has happened in the last few weeks…”

“You’re afraid that if you go and raid one of the Sheriff’s towns, your men will fall apart and be captured, or worst, executed,” Marian knew that while Robin held her in high regard, sometimes even he fell into the trap of assuming a woman was not as smart as she thought she was.  A smile played across her lips as she noticed his surprised look.

“How do you-“

“Robin,” Marian held his hand, “I can see it more clearly in the past few weeks.  You’re used to commanding troops like you did back in the Holy Land.  You look at your men like they were your own troops.  I may not know that much about warfare, but I do know what the signs are.”

“Ah…” he nodded, “your father, right?”

“I’m surprised you remembered,” Marian smiled slightly; “you were only, what…nine?”

“I remember the stories he told whenever my parents brought me to Nottingham,” a crooked smile appeared on his face.

“Then do you know what your next step should be?”

“To kiss you goodnight?” the smile grew wider and Marian had to laugh lightly.

She was glad that she took at least some of the sadness he had within him away and let go of his hand, “Not tonight.”

“Why not?” he gave her a mock-wounded look.

“Because I am still unwell and plus you have your men who need cheering up,” she shoved him playfully.

“But I need cheering up,” he pouted childishly and Marian shook her head before leaning a bit towards the bars and let him kiss her.  It wasn’t one of the more passionate ones they had shared in recent months, but rather a gentle kiss; one that spoke volumes as to his state of mind as far as she was concerned.  Still, she let herself enjoy it and moments later, the warmth of his lips was gone from hers.

“Goodnight,” he said in a quiet slightly husky tone before clambering down from his perch, disappearing into the inky darkness and leaving her by the window.

She touched a finger to her lips, the girly part of her blushing, completely overtaking the rational part of her.  He really did know how to push her buttons…and it made her happy yet fearful in ways.  Afraid that someday, he would be caught by Guy or the Sheriff and hung for all of Nottinghamshire to see.

These days, she prayed that King Richard would return soon, so that Robin wouldn’t have to live as an outlaw anymore.

                                    *                      *                      *

Hadiya hid in the under growth near Knighton Manor, watching the exchange between Robin of Locksley and Marian Fitzwalter.  As soon as Robin Hood disappeared back into the forest, she quickly slipped away, a plan already forming.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

The inky night was perfect for the job and he had changed from his traditional white hooded robe for a black-version of usual attire.  They had intercepted the message just days after Arsuf received it and he had immediately volunteered to go to England to try to prevent yet another tragedy from occurring.  His dual orders, one from his clan the other from an old ally told him that all haste must be made before any of this insidious plan could be completed.

He hoped that it wasn’t too late already, but feared that things may have been set in motion long before he received his orders.  Still, if he could complete his job, then no one needed to know that he had been here at all.

He dropped down from his perch on one of Nottingham castle’s walls and landed softly.  Quickly approaching a guard, he suddenly grabbed him by the neck and shoved his left arm against the man’s neck.  Clenching his left fist, a hidden blade shot out of a bracer he was wear and jammed itself into the guard’s neck, killing him instantly.  He put the body gently down on the ground before quietly slipping into the halls of Nottingham castle.  He had arrived in Nottingham only days ago and had spent time gathering information about his target…but so far no one in sight that looked remotely like his target.

He quietly made his way down a few halls, avoiding guards as they walked by a part of him wishing that he could tear the castle apart looking for his quarry.  He knew that any unnecessary deaths within the castle would have huge ramifications, not in terms of populace lost, but for what was happening in the Holy Lands.  A short cease-fire had been declared the day he had left to pursue his mission in England, and he hoped that when he was done and returned to Masyaf, the cease-fire would still be there, paving the way for a potential peace between Saladin and King Richard.

No unnecessary deaths were the conditional part of his mission…and that meant avoiding guards whenever possible.

He suddenly stopped in the middle of a hallway, his senses on full alert.  His peripheral vision suddenly caught a flash of something and he dove out of the way just as a small knife cut through where he had been standing only moments before.

Drawing out his short sword, sheathed across his back, he held it in a backwards grip, senses alert as to where his quarry would strike next.  It seemed that he didn’t need to go tromping all over Nottingham castle looking for his target.

“I am surprised they sent you,” his target’s voice filtered through the air before another glint and knife came flying his way.  He immediately cut through the knife’s path and it clattered to the ground by his feet.

“We are trying to keep the peace and you’re here to destroy it,” he said in a quiet, but dangerous tone.

“I’m also here to keep the peace and to get rid of the fly that is threatening to tear this peace apart!”

“He is trying to stabilize the peace!”

“From your point of view.  From mine, he is destabilizing the system of government.”

“Corrupt from within and a cancer that needs to be destroyed,” he replied, blocking yet another thrown knife.

“He is the right-hand man of the terror who destroys our brothers and sisters and thus deserves to die,” his target replied before suddenly vaulting up from one of the pillars.  “The same terror that influenced men like Robert de Sable who along with those he had corrupted, nearly destroying Masyaf as I recall.”

He didn’t reply as he stared at his now visible target.  Dressed in black garbs like him, his target didn’t flinch or give any indication of fear.  He knew he was the best and could kill his target instantly so why was no fear evident?  Suddenly the sound of many booted feet came charging down the halls and he knew he had fallen into a trap…

“Dear little Altaїr,” Hadiya shook her head as the guards surrounded the two of them, “you’ll be the perfect bait for my trap.”

Altaїr Ibn la-Ahad let his short sword clatter to the ground as he raised his hands in surrender.  He was the best, but only in the Holy Lands…here, here was a new territory and he had made the biggest mistake any neophyte assassin could have done…blunder straight into the enemy’s territory.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **TOWN**

 

“Any sign of him?” Robin asked Allan as they stood, half-hidden by a market stand in the middle of Nottingham, the mid-morning sun beating its rays down upon them.  Though they wore their cloaks, both outlaws were already starting to sweat in the summer heat.

“No sign,” Allan replied a bit dully to which he shook his head and sighed.

When he had woken up the next morning, he had made a decision to get his gang back in better spirits and knew that he had to start by talking with Allan instead of beating around the bushes.  So he had suggested that Allan accompany him to their daily routine of eavesdropping around Nottingham.  The others had spread out to visit the other villages to get a feel for the mood of the populace and to pick up any rumors of happenings with the Sheriff or Gisborne.

Allan hadn’t really protested spending time with Robin in Nottingham, but he had looked a bit ill at the prospect.

“Allan,” Robin bit his lip, rolling his eyes a bit before staring at the dejected thief.  “Stop moping.”

“I’m not moping,” was the automatic and defensive reply.

“Yes you are,” Robin felt like he was speaking to a child.  “You’ve been moping since the tournament!”

Ah ha…there was a reaction as Allan flinched slightly in the mention of the tournament.  Robin smiled grimly and plowed on.  “Did you think Anna would have wanted you to stay this way?”

There was another flinch at the mention of his former flame’s name before he noticed the tightening of Allan’s jaw, a sure sign that he was getting a bit angry.

“What do you know…you didn’t lose Marian,” Allan grounded out through his teeth.

“But I nearly lost her, four times already,” Robin narrowed his eyes, “and each time killed me.”

“Yeah well, Anna died, Robin.  She died,” Allan stared at him, fiery anger burning in his eyes, “and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it!”

“Allan-“

“I lost my brother, and now I lost her,” the con-man broke his gaze away from him, finding the ground most fascinating, but the heat of anger was still in his voice.  “I nearly killed everyone…”  The unspoken, ‘ _I nearly killed you_ ’ hung in the air and Robin grimaced as his hip wound echoed a faint phantom pain from the stab wound he received from Allan during the tournament.

“She saved you from the fire,” he said quietly.

“At the cost of her own life!” Allan’s voice broke in anguish, “I’m sorry Robin…I can’t deal with this right now…”  He suddenly stalked off around the corner of the market stall they were waiting behind and Robin had a feeling that he had made the situation a bit worst…but at least he got more than a one word response from Allan in the past month so he supposed it was a start.

Just then the familiar face of the contact they had been waiting for appeared on the street and Robin watched as their contact made his way towards them, making sure he wasn’t being watched or followed.  Their contact pretended to drop something by the stall he was hiding behind and Robin crouched on the ground.

“What news?” he asked quietly.

“Rumor has it that the Sheriff is holding a Saracen within the dungeons.”

“Come to negotiate peace once more?”

“I do not know,” the contact replied quickly, “but one of the cleaning servants said that she peeked into the Sheriff’s office and found a book open with at least two convoys of Saracen slaves headed to Nottingham for a stop over before going to Birmingham.”

“The slave trade hub,” he said darkly before he scratched his chin, “but why would a Saracen be in the dungeons…unless…”  Keeping his thoughts to himself for now, he pressed a few coins into the man’s hand before the man got up and hurried away.

“Could the Saracen be sent to negotiate a release of prisoners?” Allan spoke up quietly behind him and Robin looked up to see that he had returned and had been keeping an eye out for guards while he had been talking with their contact.  He had to admire the responsibility the con-man took upon himself…the old Allan he knew would have continued to mope somewhere…

“Or was attempting to stop the shipment.  Either way we’ll have to rescue him and get him to tell us when the shipments will arrive so we can intercept it.”

“That’s a lot of slaves-“

                                    *                      *                      *

**OUTLAWS’ CAMP**

 

“-which means there could be a lot of guards,” Much looked ill at ease at the prospect of both rescuing the Saracen in the dungeons and raiding two wagons of slaves headed to Birmingham.  “I mean, how do we even know if it’s true?  It could be another trap, you know?”

“I’ll ask Marian to look around the castle, all right?” Robin shook his head, but he understood their concern.  They had been falling into too many of the Sheriff’s most recent traps and while they had managed to get out of them relatively unscathed, it made them even more wary of what the Sheriff was planning.  “Meanwhile, what did you guys find out?”

“The villagers are still skittish, especially the ones in Clun,” Will looked unhappy and he knew why.  Clun had been hit with a plague and nearly starved to death by the Sheriff who had imposed a ‘cleansing period’ months ago in order to start a garrison there by killing off all of the surviving villagers.  It was only natural that the village was wary of what had happened in Nettlestone could hit their village once more.

“We’ll have to deliver some food and goodwill then,” Robin murmured quietly before staring at Little John and Much.  “John?  Much?”

“Nothing too big, but a couple of the children in Locksley are wondering when will you come around again to play with them,” Much shrugged and Robin had to smirk a bit while the others had grins on their faces.

“We’ll send Will again,” Robin shot a look at the young carpenter whose grin melted away into a slightly horrified look.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” he raised his hands, “I’m not going.”

“But they loved you,” John egged Will on, “not counting bramble and bits of grass in your hair the last time they met you.”

“And that mud pie,” Allan spoke up quietly from where he was sitting by the camp fire, still sullen.

But his comment had the desired effect as the whole gang burst into laughter at the mental image of Will’s last outing with the children of Locksley.  He had returned with bramble and grass in his hair and half of his face covered in thick, drying mud.  Dirt caked a majority of his clothes and he looked like he had taken a dunk in the near by pond.

Out of the corner of his eye, Robin noticed that even Allan looked to be in better spirits and took that as a good sign that the old Allan-a-Dale was returning, slowly, but surely.

                                    *                      *                      *

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

Altaїr’s arms hurt from being held up by chains ever since he was captured.  He had tried twisting and pulling on them, but they held fast.  Cursing silently, he still couldn’t believe that he had fallen into such an easy trap.  His arrogance and confidence in being able to track down Hadiya had been his undoing and he could hear the ghostly words of his long-dead mentor, Al Mualim whispering his admonishment and the Assassin’s creed back to him.

He had thought he conquered that arrogance by killing all nine Templars back in the Holy Lands a year and half ago, but now he realized he still had a lot to learn.  He may have gained back the respect he once lost in the eyes of the other Assassin Bureau leaders, but he still had a long way to go.

The sound of booted feet made him look up from the ground and his eyes narrowed slightly as he saw the jail keeper along with Hadiya walk in.  Her steps were light and cat-like and she held herself with confidence…like a predator that had spotted its prey.

“Ah…Altaїr,” she practically purred at him, peer at him in between the bars, “do those chains hurt?”

He stayed silent, glaring at her as the jail keeper opened the door and she stepped in.  “Why is someone like you doing here in England I wonder?”

“To stop you,” he pulled himself up, ignoring the protests of his sore muscles and stared down at her.

“You cannot stop us, Altaїr, no matter how hard you try,” she suddenly kneed him in the stomach and he doubled over, gasping, his arms wrenching from the effort.  “We will find the Pieces of Eden and we will have peace in our lands.”

“Forced peace,” he gasped out as she punched hard into his side, but not as hard as to break his ribs.  “A forced peace that will eliminate free will.  That is not peace.”

“It is however you would want it to be,” Hadiya suddenly leaned close and whispered in his ear, “help me, Altaїr.  Help me find peace.”  Her hands trailed his face seductively and he resisted the urge to flinch or react to her touch.

“We grew up together in Masyaf,” she gently bit his earlobe, “you know it is me.  You know I will never, ever, cause you pain.”

He wrenched his face away from her ministrations and stared coldly at her, “That was a long time ago, and you have changed.”

“I am who I am.  I am the same little girl that you chased after in the commune,” she smiled at him before tapping him lightly on the nose, “do you really think that after all these years, your love for me has died?  I can feel it…especially-“

The anger within him had been growing for a while and right now it was white hot.  He summoned all of his strength and threw his body forward.  “Get off of me woman!”  Hadiya was suddenly thrown into the bars across from his small cell, her expression one of shock before she steadied herself against the bars and laughed.

“Oh Altaїr, still holding the torch for Adha, aren’t we?” she threw her head back and laughed, “you are so naïve.”

“And you think that the Templars will let you live after you’ve gotten the Piece?” he spat at her, “you are the naïve one.”

“A little bit of information, my little eagle, she is dead,” her eyes flashed and Altaїr resisted the urge to flinch or to believe her words, “and you…pretending to be all so noble for her?  Pathetic.”

“You will never get the Piece,” he grounded out, ignoring her jibes.

“Yes I will,” she pushed herself off from the bars and stepped in front of him again, “and do you know why?”

He stared at her silently, wishing his legs weren’t held by chains so he could kick her square in the stomach.

“Because you are in here and I am out there,” she suddenly backhanded him across the face so hard that he saw stars as his head was snapped into the wall.

Blinking the daze out of his eyes, he watched as she stepped away from him and left his cell, the jail keeper closing the door behind her.

“Oh,” she suddenly turned to the jail keeper as if she found him interesting, “please make sure that he is ready to be brought out tomorrow.”

“Milady?”

“I want him paraded around, bound and gagged.  Bring him to the great hall for a few minutes around the afternoon then drag him back, literally if you want to, to the dungeons.”

“If I may ask, why?”

“I want him humiliated,” Hadiya pitted him with a wolfish like stare.

“Surely torture will do that?”

“No,” her eyes glittered with seductive maliciousness, “he is too well trained for that.  He needs…a more special touch.”

“Ah,” the jail keeper nodded then turned and followed Hadiya out of the dungeons, leaving Altaїr alone once more.

Anger still burning inside of him, he wanted nothing more than to scream his frustration out, but he knew that it was pointless and useless.  Instead, he kicked the wall behind him with his ankle, making his chains rattle a bit.  He had to get out of here and he had to warn _him_!

                                    *                      *                      *

Marian gingerly dismounted her horse and nodded her thanks to the guard that held the reins for her.  She felt stronger, but still a bit weak at the knees from lack of exercise in the past two weeks since she had begun recovering from the plague.  The doctor had cleared her to start moving around again and Robin had asked her to inquire about a potential Saracen prisoner within the castle walls so she had decided to make the trip to Nottingham castle on the pretense of thanking both Guy and the Sheriff for lifting the quarantine in Nettlestone to save her life.

Though she was mildly annoyed that Robin had come to her window for yet another favor the annoyance was long gone by the time he had explained why he had asked.  Since she had been stabbed by Guy as the Nightwatchman and healed by Djaq, the Saracen woman in Robin’s gang, she felt she owed Djaq something and felt that by helping her in this way, to help her people escape from slavery, she would at least repay part of that debt.

“Marian,” Guy’s voice brought her head around and she gave him a faint hesitant smile.  She still didn’t know how to sort her feelings for Guy.  Part of her wanted to believe that he was a sincere man, but the other part of her was disgusted at how ruthless and callous he could be.

“Sir Guy,” she greeted neutrally.  Though he had long gotten over the fact that she had slugged him hard at the altar and left him there, a part of her always wondered if he ever resented the fact that she had left for Nottingham riding with Robin and she had essentially chosen Robin during those harried hours.

“Should you be here?”

“Shouldn’t I not be here?” she asked, blinking.

He gave her a puzzled smile, “I would have thought you needed bed rest.”

“The doctor said I would be able to move around and get back to my usual routine,” she shrugged, “plus I feel it necessary to thank both you and the Sheriff for lifting the quarantine to save my life.”

“Ah, well, the Sheriff is currently occupied with affairs of the shire at the moment,” Gisborne answered a bit evasively and Marian raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?” she knew Guy was hiding something from her.

“It is nothing that concerns you,” he crossed his arms across his chest and took a deep breath, “and I would like to take this opportunity to ask you again to reconsider staying at the castle where you and your father would be able to partake in the comforts we have to offer.”

“Knighton Hall is fine,” Marian looked away, “and my father’s health would suffer greatly in the lack of fresh air and pollution Nottingham has.”  She turned slightly and smiled slightly, “Thank you for your offer, Sir Guy.”

Guy looked like he was about to say more when the sudden commotion from one of the halls across the courtyard brought both of their gazes to four guards struggling to restrain a person dressed in black.  From her vantage point, Marian couldn’t tell if the person was male or female, but she immediately identified the person as most definitely a Saracen – and the person Robin was probably looking for.

“Who is that?” she asked, moving down the hall towards where the guards were dragging the struggling prisoner towards the dungeons.

“A person of little consequence,” Guy blocked her way and she stared up at him, a frown on her face.

“Sir Guy,” she said pointedly, her mind thinking fast, “might I remind you of what happened to the last Saracen guest the Sheriff kept here at the castle?”

Guy looked a bit pained at that statement.  While Marian wasn’t there for Saladin’s assassins to nearly kill the Sheriff, Guy, and Robin and his men, she had finally heard the story from Robin during her recovery from the plague.  It was a very amusing tale to say the least, especially with the parting shot the Sheriff gave to the outlaws.

“I can assure you Marian that this guest is not royalty.  The prisoner was captured last night for attempting to assassinate the Sheriff.  We’ve…questioned the prisoner and it was revealed that the assassin was sent to kill the Sheriff and all nobles within Nottingham on orders from Saladin so the war…would continue,” Guy frowned slightly before turning to her, “I know you have left me at the altar, but my proposal still stands.  Will you marry me when the King returns from the Holy Lands?”

“Sir Guy,” Marian looked away, suddenly flustered, “you leave me no choice…I…I have only just recovered.”

“It is a simple question,” Guy said, sounding frustrated.

She noticed that the guards had finally managed to get the prisoner past the door into the dungeons and turned her gaze elsewhere.  “Is this because of the various gifts I’ve received from suitors in the past few weeks?”

Guy was silent for a moment and she turned to see him looking elsewhere, but there was the definite sign of jealousy in his eyes.  “You are jealous…”

“I am…” Guy took a deep breath, “I am only thinking of your welfare.”

“Then please,” she placed a hand on his arm, “give me some time to think.  Please ask me later.”

He stared at her hand before turning his gaze to her face and just for a moment, Marian felt a tremble of fear run through her.  His eyes were electric and she could see the passion that he felt for her in them.  “Fine,” he murmured before gesturing for her to continue walking towards the main hall.

“Thank you,” Marian wouldn’t admit it, but she was slightly unnerved by his gaze and the way her heart beat just a little faster in his presence.

                                    *                      *                      *

Vaysey gave a measured look at his current guest sitting in one of the high-backed chairs in the main hall, sipping on some of the wine he had poured for him.

“Your English wine is surprisingly…succulent,” the noble was dressed in finery that made his own clothes look like shambles, but then again, for one of the nobles of the House of Helie de La Celle, they were up to their necks in riches over in the French Normans.

“We aim to please,” nonetheless, he let a measured smile cross his face.  “Now, if you be so kind, why are you doing this?”

“My House?” the Frenchman snorted before licking his fingers from the chicken he had also eaten, “while the rest of my House supports Richard in his _Crusade_ , I do not.”

“Um, how do we know that you are…sincere?”

“Simple,” Jean de La Celle set his wine cup down and stared at Vaysey, “you don’t.”

Vaysey refused to be baited and instead, patiently waited to hear what the Frenchman had to say.

“Your Prince John schemes to get rid of Richard’s influence, does he not?” La Celle continued, popping a few grapes into his mouth, “But he has enemies in the court.  Allies who have returned from the Holy Lands in recent months.”

“Yes,” he knew what particular one the Frenchman was talking about.  Robin Hood might have thought himself to be a simple outlaw, but in recent months, he had seen the reports from the Court and it spoke volumes of the man’s popularity.  He was being hailed in the circles of those who supported King Richard as his champion and it had brought him up to infamous status.

It was a wonder Prince John hadn’t come to Nottinghamshire himself and dealt with Robin Hood.  But Vaysey understood that the effort with James of Atherstone, Earl of Hunt a month and a half ago was a warning to him – he had better capture or eliminate Hood soon or else.

“So I propose…” La Celle picked up his wine cup again and took a few sips, “we do nothing at the moment.”

Vaysey had been expecting some grand announcement, but this one…left him completely aghast and his jaw dropped in surprise.  “What?!”

“Nothing,” La Celle stared at him like it was nothing.

“Nothing?!  Forgive me, but what kind of plan is that?!”

“Let Hood have his security at the moment.  Let him continue his schemes of helping the poor and robbing the rich.  Send a missive to Prince John to continue to let rebellion grow in the streets.”

“How the-“

La Celle suddenly reached into the folds of his clothes and pulled out a small jar of clear liquid.  “This is for your little guest you have right now.”

“How do you-“

“We…have our sources,” as La Celle reached over and put the jar on the table, Vaysey caught a flash of some kind of tattoo on the man’s wrist…and it looked vaguely like the one he had burned off of Gisborne’s arm months ago.

“But I don’t-“

“Let’s just say…she has something we would like,” La Celle gave him a frosty smile, “and make sure you do get it in the end.  I would hate to explain to the others that we couldn’t count on your services.”

“How will this benefit me?”

“It will,” La Celle’s smile widened slightly, “it’s a small object shaped like a stone with intricate carvings.  When you get it, you will know…and that is when we will begin our real plan.”

“I don’t get it, what’s in this for me?”

“All the riches in the world, along with infinite power.  It is the Piece of Eden.”

                                    *                      *                      *

The dusky rays cast their long shadows across the windows of the Sheriff’s quarters but Hadiya did not bother to look at what was a beautiful sunset.  Instead, she walked around the Sheriff’s bird cages, head tilted to one side as she studied the birds.  They were so tiny, little things that could be crushed with one hand.  Some of them looked a bit thin in places, yet were chirping a fine tune.  Some though, were screeching their little vocal chords out and it made for a ruckus in the room.

“Why have you really come, Hadiya,” Gisborne’s voice was soft, yet held no anger in them and she smiled behind the black cloth still covering a majority of her face.  The Arsuf branch of the Assassins didn’t believe that female assassins should be allowed to unmask themselves or show any part of their body saved for their eyes.

“Your letter was succinct and it was a cry for help,” she poked one of the cages, letting it swing a bit, startling the birds inside.  Turning, she glared at Gisborne, “and it was weak.”

“It was not-“

“Have I taught you nothing in your brief stay in my country?” she snorted slightly, “pitiful.”

“I have power here, and position!”

“And yet why could you not kill Robin Hood?  This same man who scarred you?”

“At the time, I thought he was dead,” Gisborne growled out darkly, “he should have been dead from a wound like that.  Even the King’s physicians couldn’t do anything about that.  The blade had pierced too close to the heart like _you_ taught me.”

She stayed silent for a few minutes, letting him stew on his own words as she tilted the same cage, making all of the birds inside spill and flutter around as they tried to find new perches.  “He was saved,” she said, staring at the birds, “did you know that?”

“By whom?” he looked a bit annoyed.

“Malik and his allies at Masyaf, one of whom is our little friend down in the dungeons,” she said conversationally, her eyes on the birds, but her peripheral vision watching him carefully.

“The same ones you warned me about, is that correct?”

She let the cage go, sending the birds into another flurry of activity and approached him, “Why do you think I ordered the guards to parade him around just as your lady friend arrived?”

He stared at her, head tilted in puzzlement.

“Your Lady Marian isn’t as faithful as you think her to be,” she poked him hard in the chest, “and yet you allow yourself to be so smitten by her.  Pathetic.”

“She is…”

“She is nothing more than eye candy and a spy amongst your ranks.  She loves Robin Hood and yet you are too blind to see that!”

“She told me-“

“Never trust a woman, Gisborne.”

Gisborne was silent for a moment before he stared at her with hooded eyes, “So does that mean I shouldn’t trust you, Hadiya?”

She smiled widely, allowing the smile to reach her eyes.  “Good, you’re learning fast again.”  Turning a bit, she walked away from Gisborne and fiddled with one of her knives.  “You shouldn’t trust me.  Consorting with an assassin is pretty much signing your own death warrant.  But I will tell you the reason why I am here.  I could have sent one of my neophyte apprentices for this job, but we,” she put the knife away and lifted up a part of her left sleeve, exposing her wrist and showed it to Gisborne.

His reaction was immediate as he flinched a bit at the sight of the wolf’s head tattoo she wore.

“We have reason to believe that a Piece of Eden is here, in Nottingham, brought in by Robin Hood himself when he returned from the Holy Land,” she covered the tattoo back up.

“My,” Gisborne looked away for a second, staring at his own arm before rolling the sleeve up slightly, “my own was burned away by acid…”

“Yet you are still one of us, are you not?”

“I am…” he whispered, rolling his sleeve down.  Hadiya could see that he still had a question on the tip of his tongue and so waited patiently for him to gather the courage to speak his mind.  She had to admit; he was getting too soft and knew that she would have to fix that immediately.  Killing Lady Marian would be a start, but she knew that the girl would be a useful leverage when they finally captured Robin Hood so she couldn’t kill her yet.

“What about the Sheriff?”

“Vaysey?” she laughed lightly, “we _are_ considering him as an agent of the Templars.  He does have qualities we can use…and consider this a test for him…and for you as well.”

“Test?”

“You’ll see,” she let a crooked smile appear on her face even though she knew Gisborne couldn’t see it.

Just then the doors opened and the Sheriff waltzed in, holding a small little bottle containing a crystal clear liquid.  Hadiya nodded, pleased that the Sheriff was able to get the liquid she requested in such a timely fashion.

“Here you go, milady,” he handed her the bottle before clasping his hands and smiling, “now anything else?”

“I need about two units of your men to do something for me.  You can personally join in if you wish,” she gave him an appraising look.

“I prefer to stay out of battles,” he gave her a sardonic look, “tooth and all.”

“Understandable,” so far Vaysey was proving his worth so she gave him the benefit of doubt.

“Gisborne can go in my stead,” Vaysey said, “I’m sure being your former student and all…”

“I’m sure it will be very interesting to see how he has fared after a year away from my tutelage,” she gave Gisborne a look to which he returned just as a darkly and a hint of a predatory smile formed at the corners of her lips.  Ah!  There was that spark that she was looking for…the darkness that he had occasionally shown, but had hidden away…

                                    *                      *                      *

**OUTLAWS’ CAMP**

 

Night had already fallen when Marian walked into their camp, guided by Much who had gone to fetch her after she returned from her trip to NottinghamCastle earlier that day.  Robin watched as the others scrambled to finish their meals or at least make themselves look a bit more presentable and had to smile.  Even though none of his men would admit it, they respected Marian a lot and somehow looked like guilty boys when a mother came by.

“Hungry?” he asked, having long finished his own dinner and walked over to her.

“No thank you, I ate,” she replied hesitantly.

He frowned slightly, wondering what was bothering her.  “What’s wrong?”

 “There is a Saracen prisoner, but Guy claims that it’s an assassin,” Marian shook her head; “it doesn’t make sense.”

“Assassin?” Allan spoke up, looking concerned, “like those Al-whatever-fazeem-“

“Al’fajani,” Djaq interrupted.

“Yeah, those guys,” Allan continued, “I mean, don’t they just come and kill royalty?”

Ever since his attempted chat with Allan, the man seemed to realize that he was bringing everyone’s mood down and had made a great effort to be more like his old self.  Robin was glad that Allan was in better spirits and at least realized he was being a giant pain for the past few weeks.

“Smells like a trap,” Much frowned.

“Are you sure there aren’t any other Saracens there?” Will asked Marian and she shook her head.

“If there were any, the Sheriff and Sir Guy didn’t indicate it at all,” she replied.

“What about height, male or female?” Much asked, “I mean…if it is true…”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t tell,” she shook her head.

“Robin, I don’t like this…Saracen assassins usually have one purpose and they are very well trained not to get caught,” Djaq spoke up, bringing Robin’s gaze to her.

He understood what she was saying…having encountered many assassins during his time in the Holy Land.  There were a few that had helped him during his time there, but more than one had attempted to kill the King when they had thought he wasn’t looking.  Almost all of the assassins he knew were dead, having taken their own life or killed by him.  Djaq was right; the assassin at the castle was probably a trap of sorts.  But even so, he couldn’t discount the fact that there was the possibility of two wagons of slaves headed to Nottingham before going to Birmingham.

“So it’s a trap,” Little John said gruffly, not looking happy at the prospect.

Robin made his decision and looked up at the others, “Trap or not, we go in to rescue the prisoner.  We still can’t discount the fact that there are two wagons full of slaves coming through here on their way to Birmingham.  If our assassin is part of the trap, then we tie him neatly back up and deliver him to the Sheriff with our compliments.”

“Don’t mean to be funny, but that’s a dangerous game you’re playing Robin,” Allan looked a bit worried.

He shrugged, knowing that Allan’s concerns were valid, but freeing the slaves was his priority right now.  “I have a plan,” he said confidently, and smiled as the rest of the gang nodded their agreement to freeing the Saracen assassin.  He hoped their confidence would last a while because the plan that was quickly forming in his head required a unique…perspective…

                                    *                      *                      *

**Author’s Notes:**

            I guess I started an alternate universe post season 1 of my own with this story.  I had planned to write two other stories before The Assassin’s Gift, one dealing with the events of Allan’s betrayal/near-betrayal of Robin and the other dealing with Marian and the events of Nettlestone.  They will be written, but probably in the near future.

As of this posting I haven’t seen season 2 of Robin Hood (states won’t get it until late April), but I did read that Allan does betray the gang and actually I had the events of the tournament and Allan’s betrayal written out right after I finished my other Robin Hood story, _Well Met Steel_ back last summer.  So I should have part 2 written up soon hopefully!  Enjoy!

 

**As of** **March 17, 2008** **here is the order of stories in my AU Season 2:**

_Solace of Silence_ – currently being written

 _Well Met Steel_ – completed

 _Tournament_ – currently being written

 _Quarantine_ – in outline stages

 _The Assassin’s Gift_ – currently being written

 _Witch Hazel_ – in outline stages

 _The Return of King Richard Trilogy_ – in outline stages


	2. Part 2: Ambush

Robin Hood: The Assassin’s Gift

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  This story takes place roughly at the end of July, early August and crosses over with _Assassin’s Creed_.  I have two companion stories to this one, _Silence_ , a one-shot, and _Solace of Silence_ , which is in the process of being written and takes place one year prior to Robin’s return from the Holy Lands.

 

**Story:**

_Part 2 – Ambush_

 

**NOTTINGHAM** **TOWN**

 

Will adjusted the helmet he had taken from one of the two unconscious bodies of the guards he and Allan had ambushed a few minutes ago.  He hated wearing these things and wondered how in the world the guards of Nottingham castle were able to move around in them.  It was a miracle that they could fight in these things.  The last time he had to wear one was when he and Allan were escaping the dungeons during the Crusader James of Atherstone’s brief stay in Nottingham.

They had hid the two bodies in an abandoned house and covered the two guards with sacks of flour from a near by bakery.

“Ready mate?” Allan asked as he adjusted the waist of his chain mail armor before checking to make sure that his longsword was strapped tightly to his waist.

Will had hidden one of his short axes inside the folds of his armor and wore a short sword by his hip and held a spear in his hands.  “You’re in better spirits.”

If his best friend was bothered by his comments, he didn’t show it and instead shrugged.  “I finally got it through my thick skull that sulking around wasn’t going to do me any good,” he gave him a faint smile before adjusting the sword once more around his waist, “besides…it’s what she would have wanted…”

Will almost didn’t hear the last part, but placed a comforting hand on Allan’s shoulder.  When his best friend had almost betrayed them to the Sheriff during the tournament he had been shocked and didn’t understand why Allan did it.  It was only after the death of Anna that he realized how much the woman meant to his best friend and a part of him knew that he would have done the same if Djaq had been in Anna’s position.

“Let’s go,” he said and Allan nodded before they hurried towards their destination, making sure to grab a torch on the way.

The darkness of night made for the perfect time to execute their rescue plan and when Allan spotted their target, he patted Will on their shoulder before handing him the torch.  Will glanced around and made sure that no other guards were around the area before hurrying towards a giant pile of hay near the eastern part of the castle wall.  There were also a few horses, goats, and cow by the pile of hay which would add to the distraction.

He quickly tossed the torch onto the pile of hay before running back to where Allan was.  The hay burst into flames and smoke filled the air.  The animals, sensing fire was near started to make a ruckus and the two of them ducked into an alleyway just as the nearby guards rushed to the scene.

From the alleyway, they ran quickly towards the eastern gates and opened them, letting the others in.  Both Much and Little John were carrying large baskets and they all ran towards the castle, making sure that they stayed in the shadows and avoided guards whenever possible.

“Stay here,” Robin looked at him and Allan and he nodded before watching their leader and Djaq disappear up into the castle along with Much and Little John still carrying the large wicker baskets.

“Do you think it’ll work?” a sudden surge of apprehension filled Will as he stared at where Djaq had disappeared.

“Well it’s still one of the better plans we’ve come up with,” Allan shrugged before giving him a faint smile, “chickens, Will, chickens.  I’ve always thought I was the more creative one of getting us into the castle, but Robin’s idea takes the cake.”

Will had also thought it was one of the more outrageous plans their fearless leader had come up with, and suspected it was due to the fact that Robin had gotten the idea from the children of Locksley.  They had spent the day asking various farmers around the villages if they could use some of their chickens and each of the wicker baskets held at least four chickens to be let loose within the castle halls.

Much and Little John would then supposedly scare the chickens all over the place before letting the guards on a merry chase throughout the town before escaping through the eastern gates.  He and Allan would then slip in while the guards were distracted and help Robin and Djaq with the Saracen prisoner.  Then they would make their own escape after the guards had gone chasing after Much and Little John by the now-guard-depleted eastern gate.

The sudden clatter followed by a squawk that sounded distinctly like a chicken being ran over alerted made both of them look up to see Much running down the steps followed quickly by Little John and at least two scared chickens.  Will flattened himself against the side stairs along with Allan, hoping that the guards who followed the squawking chickens didn’t see them and order them to give chase.

“After them!” one of the guards shouted before at least five of them ran after Much and Little John.

Will had to stifle his laughter as a few of the guards tripped over the squawking chickens on their way after the other two outlaws.  This was definitely one of their cleverer plans…

“All clear!” Allan tapped him on the shoulder, a grin on his features before the two of them hurried up the unguarded steps and headed towards the dungeons.

They had to pick their way through the mess of feathers and chicken poop that littered the halls, but managed to arrive in front of the door to the dungeons relatively unscathed and unseen.  Just as Will was about to open the door, it swung open, revealing both Djaq and Robin along with the Saracen prisoner…who was a girl!

“Her name’s Hadiya,” Djaq explained before helping her out of the door.

Will instinctively grabbed the black-clothed assassin’s other arm and helped her out before she waved him away.

“I can walk,” her accent was clipped and sounded more precise than Djaq’s, almost as if she wasn’t exactly used to speaking English.

“Much and John?” Robin asked, bringing up the rear, bow in hand.

“Running like chickens with their heads cut off,” Allan quipped and Will shook his head in exasperation and noticed that both Djaq and Robin had grins on their faces.  All of them were glad that Allan had snapped out of his depressing funk the day before…

“We should go,” as always, Djaq was the first to snap out of the good humor and ushered them along.

“We should be all clear from here to the gates,” Will said quietly to Robin who nodded and clapped him on the back.

“Good work,” their leader said and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride fill him.  He always looked up to Robin and while knew that the man had his faults; he couldn’t help but think of their leader as like an older brother of sorts.

They hurried out of the castle and through the town, making a wide circle to the eastern gates to avoid the still burning haystack and braying animals, all the while making sure that their new friend was fairing well.  As they joined up with Much and Little John, Will spared himself a glance at Hadiya and he couldn’t help but notice that she looked a lot different than Djaq, but couldn’t place his finger on it…

Until he realized that it was because she was covered from head to toe in black garbs and only her eyes were showing.

“There are some sects of Muslims that do not allow women to show any skin unless it is in the presence of a male family member,” Djaq caught him staring at the assassin and Will blushed slightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled an apology, remembering how he had first stumbled upon Djaq in the forest while she was bathing.

“Don’t worry,” Djaq squeezed his arm in reassurance.

Behind them, Will heard Allan snicker slightly and glared at him as they headed back to camp.  He was already embarrassed enough and didn’t need his best friend needling him some more.

                                    *                      *                      *

**SHERIFF’S QUARTERS,** **NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

Altaїr struggled against the bonds that held him as he watched Robin Hood and the rest of the outlaws run from the castle, glancing this way and that to make sure that they weren’t being followed.  Hadiya had laid a trap for him when he had infiltrated the castle and he had walked straight into it; and now the outlaws were walking into that same trap.

“Those bonds aren’t going to get any looser if you keep squirming around like that,” the Sheriff of Nottingham’s oily voice made him glare at the man and struggle some more against his bound feet, hands, and mouth.

The man walked forward, standing next to him as he also peeked out of the window and a sigh escaped his lips.  “Hood is so easy to bait…it’s a wonder he isn’t dead yet.”

He knew that the Sheriff was baiting him and remembered that once, not long ago, he would have struggled to say something, his arrogance clouding his judgment, but now, he stayed silent, still glaring at the Sheriff.  The sounds of a few of the guards giving chase to the outlaws echoed throughout the mostly silent courtyard, save for the clucking of a few errant chickens, with the sounds fading away as Robin Hood and his men escaped into the town. 

Just then, the Sheriff reached over and pulled his mouth gag down and gave him an even look.  “Now, I’m curious, why are you here?”

“Hadiya is a rogue of my clan,” Altaїr said quietly, “and she needs to be stopped.”

“Ah, and here I thought you were going to kill me,” Sheriff Vaysey shrugged, “so if she is a rogue, why was she sent here?”

Altaїr knew that telling the Sheriff his true purpose of killing Hadiya would only make him all the more aware to an object that should have never existed in the world.  And for that such object to fall into the wrong hands…would mean grave consequences.  As soon as Malik had found out through his contacts that Hadiya knew of the Piece of Eden existing in England and had set forth to claim it for the Templars, he had taken off to stop her and to kill her.

The assassins at Masyaf had spent the past year tracking down the rest of the Templars and hunting for the other Pieces of Eden, making sure they were either safely ensconced away or hidden from prying eyes.  How Hadiya had discovered that there was one here remained a mystery to Altaїr, but he knew that Malik Al-Sayr, the current nominal leader of the Assassin Order, would hunt down the traitor back in the Holy Lands.

His job was to kill Hadiya and make sure the Piece of Eden was still safe.

“She would sooner kill you than help you hunt down Robin of Locksley,” Altaїr decided to give half of a truth.  Hadiya was a Templar, not a Christian Templar, but part of the group that called themselves Templars – and they wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone standing in way of their goal.

“Actually, there is no more Robin of Locksley, there’s only Robin Hood now…outlaw you see,” the Sheriff looked indifferent.

During the past few days when he had been gathering information about Nottingham town and his surroundings, he had come across the information that his old ally and friend Robin of Locksley was now an outlaw, a renegade within the current English government.  It had completely puzzled him and he had asked the locals of their opinions of what happened and while he had somewhat pieced together the story of why Robin was now an outlaw, he understood one thing: the government in Nottingham was corrupt.

“Now, you may not be inclined to tell me the real reason why you’ve come, but I certainly know that you assassins are ready to stab anyone in the back.  However, since it seems my agreement with the girl is currently in effect, I just couldn’t let you go now, could I?” the Sheriff stared at him with a thin lipped smile, “after all, she said she would bring me Hood’s head…”

“He is a good man, Sheriff,” Altaїr frowned, “and I can see why he would oppose you.”

“No,” the Sheriff walked away from the window and his eyes followed the shorter man, “he is obstructing justice and preventing the law from being upheld.”

“With good reason,” Altaїr was no stranger to breaking laws; after all, he was an assassin.  But even he knew that Robin would go great lengths not to break the law – bending it perhaps – but definitely not break it.

“Ah!” the Sheriff turned and smiled at him congenially before waving his finger in the air and two guards came forward and surrounded him.  Altaїr stiffened, ready to put up a fight when the next words that spilled out of the Sheriff’s mouth froze him to the spot.  “Well, as far as I’m concerned, Hood has broken the law and thus I want him dead.  Of course, you can hang with him or have your head put up on a pike, but before we do that, do you know anything called the Piece of Eden?”

“Where did you hear of that?” the guards clamped their arms around him, but he didn’t struggle, still paralyzed with shock.  If the Sheriff knew of the Piece of Eden…

The shorter man just smiled slyly and poked him hard in the shoulder.  “So you do know what it is…and I think it’s safe to assume that you were sent here to keep it safe, weren’t you?”

“How do you know of this?” he demanded.

“A little bird flew by and told me,” the Sheriff waved to one of his cages in a vague manner.

“Templars,” Altaїr hissed out softly.  That meant he had more than one to kill regarding the Piece of Eden.

“So that’s what they call themselves,” the Sheriff looked thoughtful as he paced around him in a circle before waving for the guards to take him back to the dungeons.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Altaїr struggled against his captor’s iron grips, “it’s dangerous!”

“Ooo, I love danger,” the Sheriff looked positively giddy at the statement, making the pit of dread in the assassin’s stomach grow deeper.

“It’s too much power, even for you!” Altaїr bunched his muscles together and suddenly wrenched it from one of the guards’ grasp before elbowing the man in the face.  The guard went down with a clatter and he wasted no time in hitting the other guard with his chain-bound hands, making the other man go down.

He wasted no time and grabbed the keys to his chains and unlocked the ones binding his legs before proceeding to undo the ones around his wrists.  He was in the midst of unlocking them before he realized that something was wrong and looked up to see the Sheriff staring at him with a mild expression his face…and no other guards around him.

Altaїr stopped what he was doing and stood up slowly, wary of yet another ambush of sorts.  Why hadn’t the Sheriff summoned more guards…surely they heard the clatter…

It was then that he sensed someone behind him and turned around to see a tall, thin red-headed man dressed in a variation of the Crusader’s outfits he had seen in the Holy Lands…his sword drawn and pointed at him.  It was also then that he noticed the man’s wrists were exposed and one of them held a wolf’s head tattoo…the symbol of the Templars.

“Please,” the Sheriff’s voice made him turn back slightly to see him walking forward, gesturing with his hands, “do continue your lovely escape.”

“What trick is this?” Altaїr growled out darkly.

“No, no trick,” the Sheriff smiled slightly, “just…a test of sorts I think.” He gave the barest of winks to the red-headed man.

“Templar, speak your purpose here,” he demanded of the red-head.

“You should know of my goal,” the man had a French accent and waved his sword slightly, “I seek the same thing you do, little assassin.”

“You will never get the Piece of Eden!” Altaїr finished releasing his wrists from the manacles and they dropped to the ground in a noisy clatter.

“Ah, well, then I guess it’s a race,” the Sheriff gestured to a pile on his table that had been covered in cloth but was now revealed, “see, if you find Hadiya first, then you get the Piece of Eden and save Robin Hood.  But if Gisborne gets there first…well…you know the rest.

“But as you know, I want Hood’s head on a pike.  I would like yours there, but my friend here tells me that it’s a bit too messy,” he continued.

“I could kill you and your _friend_ ,” Altaїr sneered the word, “here right now since you are consorting with a Templar.”

“That would be a problem,” the shorter man raised his eyebrows, “you see, if you kill me, then you’ll have to go and kill Prince John and a few other nobles in the Court for consorting with Templars too.  Then I suspect it wouldn’t go so well for the home team in the Holy Lands would it?  It might…say break a truce going on right now?”

Altaїr knew that the Sheriff was right.  His mission was supposed to be low profile.  Killing the Frenchman and the Sheriff would make it too risky…but it was his duty to protect the Piece of Eden and to make sure no one else got their hands on it.

“Torn are we?” the Sheriff gestured to the pile and he noticed that it was his weapons, including his hidden blade bracer.  “See, I’m giving you a chance to kill Hadiya and save Robin Hood…but I won’t make it easy for you.”

Altaїr knew that it was a trap and knew that the Sheriff knew he wasn’t familiar at all with the landscape surrounding Nottingham town.  He would probably have to fight his way out of the town before scouring the countryside for Robin Hood and his men.  His body, still aching from the torture Hadiya put him through a day ago, would probably not withstand the combined assault and search throughout the forest.  He would be too late to do anything…

“Aw, surrendering are we?” the Sheriff laughed lightly.

“Never,” his eyes flashed dangerously before he walked over and grabbed his weapons.  Turning, he glared at the Sheriff and the Frenchman, “I will be back and you will never get your hands on the Piece of Eden.”  With that, he walked over to the open window into the courtyard and leaped out of it, landing in a pile of hay before rolling out of it and ran towards the gates of the castle.

He had two missions now…save his old friend and kill Hadiya.

                                    *                      *                      *

Vaysey was mildly surprised when the assassin jumped out of the window and landed neatly onto a pile of hay.  It was a pretty long drop from where he was standing and the man had gotten away relatively unscathed.

“Are you sure it will work?” La Celle spoke up behind him, sheathing his sword.  “If he gets his hands on the Piece of Eden…”

“Gisborne and Hadiya’s men are there.  He won’t make it in time.  I made sure of that,” the Sheriff smiled slightly to himself as he saw that the first rays of dawn were approaching.

“You play a dangerous game, Vaysey,” La Celle warned, “when we do have Robin Hood in our grasp, won’t he come and rescue the man?”

“That’s what I’m counting on,” the Sheriff smiled nastily, “when he does come, then he can deal with Hadiya and we’ll get the Piece of Eden.”

La Celle smiled, “We think alike, Sheriff.  Perhaps I must reconsider my position towards you joining the Templars.”

                                    *                      *                      *

**OUTLAWS’ CAMP,** **SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

Robin had to admit, as he and the rest of the gang walked into their camp, the plan worked flawlessly.  He had almost thought either Gisborne or the Sheriff would wake up and come after them but it seemed that they got away unseen.  He glanced at their new Saracen guest who looked a bit battered, but otherwise healthy.  “So, Hadiya,” he started conversationally as the others scattered across the camp, but were paying attention to every word he said, “what did you do to make the Sheriff angry enough to imprison you?”

“You mean besides being one of your Crusaders’ enemies?” the young woman shot back, her eyes flashing, “I tried to kill him.”

“Well that will certainly get you on the Sheriff’s bad side,” Much muttered none too loudly.

“I’m surprised he let you live this long,” Robin watched as Djaq silently offered her some water and food to which she took and sat down before drinking straight out of the cup through the black cloth covering her face.

“I was sent by the Order to negotiate with the Sheriff of Nottingham in any way possible to free my people from slavery,” she didn’t touch the food and instead took another sip from her cup.

“And that meant killing the Sheriff?” Will asked, sitting across from her, munching on a piece of bread and cheese.

“Any way possible,” Hadiya said in a serious tone.

“They wouldn’t happen to be two wagons of them traveling towards here would they?” Allan leaned against a tree, scratching the back of his head.

“They will be arriving later this morning,” she looked distressed, “and while I appreciate the rescue, I must help my men.”

“Your men?” now Robin was intrigued and wondered if the assassin was more than she seemed.  Her tone in which she had greeted him and Djaq when they had freed her from her cell was very authoritative and almost leader-like.  A tone that he was very familiar with having used it with the gang and with his own troops in the Holy Land.

Hadiya suddenly looked down, “I have said too much…”

“Listen, we just saved your bacon,” Allan shook his head, “and now you say you’ve said too much?  I don’t mean to be funny, but make up your mind.”

“We’re only trying to help you,” Robin crouched down next to Hadiya, noting the fear and wariness in her eyes.

“Robin, let me talk to her,” Djaq suddenly sat down on Hadiya’s other side and he gave her a curious look before she just shook her head almost imperceptibly.  He shrugged and got up, moving to one of the logs across the fire and sat down, accepting a cup of water from Much as he watched Djaq and Hadiya talk quietly in Arabic.

He caught a few snippets of words and sentences he recognized and learned during his time in the Holy Lands and realized that Hadiya was afraid of them.  They were all men who had spirited her from prison and she was afraid that they would hurt her since essentially they were outlaws.  While she was an assassin and a fierce fighter in her own right, she was also a woman stuck in an unfamiliar land with unfamiliar men – men like the soldiers in the Crusades that had caused so much brutality amongst her people.

It was only natural for her to think that Robin and his men were the same as the Crusaders and he frowned.  There was the occasional rare instance he wondered if he should have disobeyed his King’s orders and stayed behind.  If they were amassing such a reputation in the Holy Lands…it was a wonder that the Muslims and other religious groups called them infidels and warmongers.

It seemed that Djaq was trying to explain what she was doing; running around with a band of men, and the discussion grew a bit heated.  He frowned and decided to try to help Djaq out.  He hadn’t used Arabic in a while and knew that he would have to choose his words carefully.  He never told any of the outlaws, with the exception of Much, that he knew the language and the only hint that they got was that he had read the _Qu’ran_ while he was in the Holy Lands.

 “Robin?” Djaq asked curiously as he crouched down next to the two women.

“ _Peace_ ,” he looked at Hadiya “ _we mean you no harm.  We only mean you peace and wish to help you._ ”

“You’ve learned our language,” Hadiya looked surprise as did Djaq and the others.

“Trust him, he can help.  We can help you,” Djaq said and Hadiya was silent for a minute before sighing and nodding.

“Some of my men are mixed in with the slaves being brought through Nottingham.  I had two plans: one was either to negotiate with the Sheriff to free the slaves and my men, or to ambush one of the wagons and free my men so that we would be able to gather together and launch an all-out attack against the Sheriff and the nobles of Nottinghamshire before heading to Birmingham then to London to kill Prince John.”

“Why kill Prince John?” Robin was curious.

“If news of his brother’s death reached Richard’s ears, then we would hope he would retreat since his lands will be unguarded and ripe for the picking of any ambitious noble, making it so that Richard would have to stop his Crusade.”

He shook his head and stood up, pacing around, “That wouldn’t have worked.  The King doesn’t like his brother and Prince John has been making bids to take over his throne in the past several months since I’ve returned.  Your plan, while noble as it is, would have accomplished nothing.”

“How do you figure that?” Will looked confused, “aren’t we trying to stop the Sheriff and Prince John?”

“Yes we are,” Robin tried to make the intricacies of Court politics as simple as possible for his men, “but we need to do so in the way that the King is the one to throw his brother out, not randomly kill him and the Sheriff.  Besides, from the rumors I’ve heard, Prince John would definitely have a contingency plan in place if he was suddenly killed.  And he may have heirs we don’t know about who could suddenly stand up and say that he or she is the new ruler of England.”

“Not to mention, the French hate Prince John’s guts,” Much murmured quietly and Robin nodded.

“What?” now all of the outlaws and Hadiya looked confused.

“Killing him right now would invite the French to invade English soil and then we would have a civil war on our hands.  Right now, with Prince John on the throne, the French won’t make a move against him.  They know he has his people in high places and he has the backing of people like the Sheriff,” Robin scratched his beard before staring at Hadiya, stopping his pacing around.  “I offer a counter proposal to your plans.”

The assassin raised an eyebrow, “A counter proposal?  You do not know what the Order has told me to do.”

“Wait, just listen,” he held up his hands in a placating gesture, knowing how volatile assassins got whenever their orders were changed by someone else.  He had worked with an assassin during his time in the Holy Lands and still remembered when he finally convinced his wary ally to go against his orders in favor of a much better and less-suicidal one.  “Capture the Sheriff and the corrupt nobles.  Then re-install Edward of Knighton as the new Sheriff.  Then help me hold the castle when Prince John retaliates.”

“Don’t you mean if?” Little John looked concerned.

“When,” Robin shot a quick grin at the big man before looking back at Hadiya, “what do you say?”

“We were told to kill all of the nobles, including Edward of Knighton.”

“He’s not corrupt,” Robin frowned, “and I guess if you do have to really kill all the nobles, you would have to start by killing me…and Much.”

“Master!” Much shot him a wounded look before staring at Hadiya with slight fear in his eyes.

“You?”

“I’m Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntington,” he grinned at her and watched shock play through her eyes.

“And you are an outlaw…”

“The Sheriff had something to do with that part…so did Guy of Gisborne,” Robin shrugged, “so what do you say?”

“When Prince John arrives, will you let me complete my mission or will you offer another… _counter proposal_?” she didn’t sound happy and almost scoffed the words.

“When we get to that part, I’ll let you know,” he replied a bit evasively before holding out his hand, “so…deal?”

Hadiya stared at his hand for a few seconds before reluctantly putting her own in his and shook it.  “For now, Robin of Locksley…”

“So, now that’s settled, where were your men coming in from?” he helped her up and folded his arms across his chest.

“I was told near Boston and they would be arriving before dawn,” she said in a short tone.

“That’s…east of here, which would make it….” Much turned slightly, finger pointing, “that way.”

“Ah, well, it is getting a bit light out, “ Robin grinned at the other men who took it as their cue to check their weapons before hefting his own bow and making sure his sword was secure by his side, “shall we?”

They headed off towards the east hoping to intercept the wagons of slaves before it reached its destination in Nottingham.  However, no one caught Hadiya dipping two small throwing knives into the crystal bottle of liquid the Sheriff had given her a couple of nights ago.  She smiled behind her veil as she followed them, knowing that the outlaws were running straight into an ambush.

                                    *                      *                      *

**SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

Robin had sent Will ahead to scout out if the wagons were arriving and positioned the rest of the gang accordingly for an ambush of the first wagon when Will reported that they were indeed on their way.  He had Allan on one side of a small ridge hidden in the forest with his bow and had him tie a few strings to some of the near by branches and did the same with Much, except on the opposite side of Allan.

He then kept Will further back and a bit away from the others so he could signal to them when the second wagon was approaching.  Will had told them that at least six soldiers guarded each wagon, which meant twelve men to take down.  It wouldn’t be easy, but Robin had confidence in his men.

Little John, Djaq, and Hadiya were with him, standing in the middle of the dirt road, ready to halt the first wagon in its tracks.  They would have free the first wagon quickly before the second one arrived so they would have more men to overpower the soldiers guarding the second wagon.

Robin held his bow loosely in his hands with an arrow already half notched into its string a wiry smile on his face as he heard and saw the first wagon approaching.  “Stop right there,” Robin stepped forward, making the wagon and soldiers stop where they were, “this is an ambush.”

“There are only four of you and six of us,” the lead guard sneered at him and he smiled in return.

“Oh really?” he looked up into the ridges where Allan and Much were hiding and nodded towards the trees, “my men and I have you surrounded.”

That was the spoken signal for both Allan and Much to rattle the near by trees which had strings tied on them, giving the soldiers the impression that there were more men hidden in the ridges than they had thought.  He had used the same exact trick long ago when he and Much first came across Allan-a-Dale and bit his lip from laughing out loud as the soldiers looked around warily.

“I-I don’t believe you!” the lead soldier stuttered in fear and he had to give him credit for not bowing down to threats.

But that was also the second cue for Allan and Much to start firing arrows towards the soldiers.  Not precisely enough to kill them, but enough to scare them.  He knew that both of his men were fair shots.  They would run up and down the ridges they were on, firing arrows to completely the illusion that there were definitely more men up there, ready to snipe the soldiers down from above.

And so when the first arrow whistled down from Much’s side and embedded itself into the wagon, all of the soldiers jumped at least a few feet in the air and the lead horse whinnied, startled.  A few seconds later, more arrows from Allan’s side hit both the ground and wagon soon joined by Much’s arrows and Robin watched with an amused look as the soldiers darted back and forth, trying to duck under the arrows.

He held up his hand and the arrows stopped firing.  “Now then,” turning to face the now thoroughly scared leader, “please leave your swords on the ground along with any other weapons you may have and you can go on your way.  We’ll take the wagon off of your hands.”

“This is Crown p-property!  They are expected in Birmingham!” the lead soldier looked torn between his duty and the fact that he nearly got shot by arrows.

Robin rolled his eyes and sighed before lining up his bow and pulling back the string, pointing it straight at the soldier’s chest.  “We can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

The lead soldier gulped a few times before taking his sword out and dropping it to the ground.  “Okay, okay…we’ll leave…”  He nodded to his men who looked a bit bewildered, but did as their leader ordered.

Robin lowered his bow and watched as the soldiers fled past them, the wiry smile back on his face.  As the leader passed him, he caught a flash of colors from underneath the soldier’s cloak and his smile faltered slightly.  The colors were in a familiar pattern and somehow, it set off alarm bells in his head.

“Robin?” Djaq called out, making him shove the thought into the back of his mind as he turned and focused on the task at hand.  “What do we do with him?” she gestured with her head towards the driver whom Little John was holding his staff on to prevent him from escaping.

“Keep him there for a second,” he looked up to the ridges and shook his head, signaling to Allan and Much to stay where they were before rounding to the back of the covered wagon where Hadiya had lifted a part of the cloth up and was speaking to a few men in the wagon.  Her Arabic was too fast for Robin to follow or even pick out a few snippets of words, but he assumed that with their eager nods of heads that she was explaining what was going on.

“Djaq, you have the swords?” he called out before she came around the corner, her arms full of the six swords the soldiers dropped, the key to the lock on the wagon’s latch on top of the pile.

He picked off the key and gave it to Hadiya who immediately unlocked the latch.  A few of her men spilled out, staring at Djaq curiously before taking a couple of the swords she had in her hands.

“I told some of them to stay in the wagon to give the illusion that the wagon has stopped to give the guards a break.  The rest will hide behind the trees, ready to attack on my command,” Hadiya explained and he nodded.

“What about the others?” he gestured to some of the other men looked ill at ease and confused.

“They will be safer in the wagon than out here.  After this is done, we will take them home to their families,” she replied before one of the men inside the wagon asked for water.

She unhooked a small water flask and reached out to give it to the man.  In the process, he caught a flash of her bare wrist…and an all-too familiar wolf’s head tattoo on it before her black clothes covered it up once more.  He frowned slightly…all of the assassins, with the exception of Gisborne, had been killed during the attempt on the King’s life and as far as he knew, Gisborne was the only person who had a wolf’s head tattoo.

Something wasn’t right…and between that tattoo and the pattern of color he saw on the soldier…

Will’s sharp piercing whistle echoed throughout the forest alerting them that the second wagon was coming.  Robin was about to order his men back into their positions when he saw the second wagon approaching, surrounded by more than six soldiers.  In fact, it looked like it was surrounded by at least two units of guards.  It was an ambush.

“Scatter!” he called out to the others, “we’ll meet by the secondary hiding spot!”

With that, he grabbed Hadiya’s hand and dragged her along as he ran away from the soldiers who had broken into a run, seeing their quarry escape.

“Let me go!” she shouted as they charged down a hill, trees blurring past them, “my men-”

“Will be fine,” he cut her off tersely; “we’ll set up another plan when the real second wagon arrives in Nottingham.”  He finally remembered where he had seen the colored pattern…it was Prince John’s colors and he had seen them on the soldiers he had sent a month and half ago when James of Atherstone had tried to hang him in an elaborate plan.

He ran past a rather large boulder before pulling her around it and pressed up against it, glancing out to make sure that none of the soldiers were following them, or if they were, they would run past them.

“What are you-“

“Shh,” he hissed as a few soldiers ran by, shouting orders to the others to continue pursuit.  They wore the colors of the Sheriff’s elite guard…which meant the Sheriff knew they were going to ambush the wagons…he had a feeling that their new assassin friend wasn’t who she seemed to be.

As soon as the last man was gone, he turned slightly and stared at her, anger in his eyes.  “Explain to me how the Sheriff knew we were going to be there?”

“Excuse me?!” she looked surprised, but Robin could see past the act, the way her eyes glittered with hidden darkness and how her posture was one of indifference.  Ever since his encounter with James of Atherstone, he was a little more wary, especially in light of Allan’s betrayal during the tournament.  He could feel himself doubting the good in people a little less as the months dragged on and while he knew he should have given the benefit of doubt to some people, he knew that it was the fact that some deep part of him was tired of living in the forest and letting the Sheriff get away with his plans so often.

He grabbed her wrist, and pulled down a part of her sleeve, exposing the wolf’s head tattoo.  “This tattoo,” he hissed quietly at her, “was seen in the King’s camp at Acre as part of an assassination attempt on the King himself.  There is only one other person I know of that has this kind of tattoo.”

“I have no clue-“

“Don’t play me for a fool, Hadiya,” he narrowed his eyes, his other hand gripping his bow tightly, “I know you are an assassin and I know how your kind operates.  Deception is your biggest ally.”

Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes narrowed fractionally, “This is the mark of those who throw everything away for their one true goal.”

“This is the mark of a traitor,” he shot back, “who are you?  Really, Hadiya.  Because I am sick of playing games with the Sheriff and with you.  The Sheriff knew we were coming and some of Prince John’s men were guarding the wagons.”

He had expected her to move, but wasn’t prepared for the speed at which she moved.  One minute she was caught in his grip, the next, it was all a blur and Robin’s world suddenly tipped upside down before a sharp pain blossomed across his right shoulder and he fell to his knees, wincing.

He glanced up to see her a few feet away from him, her eyes glittering like dark stones.  “I am Hadiya of the Templars and you, Robin of Locksley, have something we want.”

She suddenly split into two people and Robin blinked a bit before her form joined into one again then jumped out as two people.  It was then that he realized his whole body had started to feel a bit numb.  He struggled to lift his arm up and reached behind him to where the pain was still radiating from his shoulder and felt a sharp spike of metal there.  A small knife had embedded itself into his shoulder…and it was laced with some kind of liquid that was slowly paralyzing him.

He managed to lift his head up and looked sluggishly at her, his whole world spinning before his muscles failed him and he collapsed to the ground, unable to do anything but breathe.  He noticed that a lot more booted feet had arrived…

“Did you kill him?” Gisborne’s voice seemed so far away, yet he thought he saw the man’s face.

“No…he’s only paralyzed,” he thought he heard Hadiya reply before a spike of pain erupted from his stomach as she kicked him.  He instinctively tried to curl up in a defensive ball, but none of his muscles would cooperate with him.  A small well of panic began to fill him, panic that he had not felt since...his time in the Holy Lands.

He had only felt this type of paralyzing drug’s effect once before, long ago, soon after they had taken Acre.  He tried to force the panic out of him, but his mind wouldn’t let go of the fear he had experienced under its effects and images of his time throughout the Holy Lands began to flash through his mind.

“Look at the fear in his eyes,” Hadiya’s voice floated hazily through his ears before her swirling face engulfed his vision, “it seems your little fearless outlaw is actually scared.”

“Really?”

“You can’t see it in his expression, the paralyzing agent made sure of that, but can you see it?”

Gisborne’s voice made a non-committal sound before suddenly a flash of what looked like a boot flew across his blurred vision and Robin felt a brief flash of pain across his head before blissful blackness claimed him and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

                                    *                      *                      *

Hadiya glared at Gisborne as Robin Hood fell unconscious.  “Why did you do that?”

“The sooner we get him to Nottingham, the less we will have to worry about his little band of outlaws trying to find him and having a bigger fight on our hands,” he gave her an icy look.

She briefly wondered if Gisborne felt sorry for Hood in this type of state, but dismissed the idea from her head and instead shrugged.  “Fine, but he has what I want and I will do anything to get it.  If you cross me, you know how we deal with our own.”

“Understood,” he replied a bit dangerously before gesturing for two of his soldiers to haul the young ex-lord’s body to a horse to take him back to the castle.

                                    *                      *                      *

**OUTLAWS’ SECONDARY CAMP**

 

Much found out that he was the last one to arrive at their secondary camp until he looked around and saw that his master, ex-master a part of his mind amended, more out of habit than of anything else, hadn’t arrived yet.  “Where’s Robin?” he asked the others as he slowed down his run into camp and tried to catch his breath.

The others also looked a bit winded.  There were so many soldiers out there, far more than they had expected and when Robin told them to run, Much had found himself running with Little John and Djaq initially before splitting up to distract the soldiers.  He thought he had run from Nettlestone to Knighton and back a couple of times in terms of distance, before arriving at the camp, assured that the soldiers weren’t going to follow him here.

“He didn’t escape with you?” Djaq looked concerned.

“And where’s that Saracen girl…Hadiya?” while Allan usually didn’t look too worried for the most part, he definitely looked very concerned now and Much understood why.  Robin didn’t seem to notice, but ever since Allan had nearly betrayed him, he had always made sure to look out for him whenever he went somewhere alone, even if it was to Knighton Hall to visit Marian.

It was like Allan had felt some kind of debt to Robin and needed to repay it by making sure their leader was safe at all times.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Will said in a quiet tone.

Much spun around unsteadily, one of his hands grabbing his hair in frustration as he looked around for any clue or sign of their leader but there was none.  “I knew it…” he muttered, “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”  He turned around once more, a part of him just hoping that Robin was going to show up, a cocky smile on his face, surprising them and then perhaps saying a witty reply along the lines of ‘miss me?’  But no one appeared.

Little John gave a gruff sigh before sitting down on one of the logs, his staff against his shoulder.  “We were played for fools.”

“Hadiya was working for the Sheriff,” Allan looked a bit angry.

“Don’t be so quick to judge,” Djaq interrupted, looking both concerned and angry, “for all we know, she could have been captured along with Robin.”

“Djaq…” Will looked like he wanted to agree with her but instead, looked back and forth between her and Allan.

“Your friend is correct, little one,” a new voice made all of them stand up and spin around to face the intruder.

Much held his sword and shield up as he stared at yet another black clothed person who stood at the far end of their camp, looking a bit worst for wear.  His eyes immediately picked out the assortment of knives, a short sword, and a long Saracen curved blade hanging by the intruder’s side and his mind immediately supplied the word assassin…but it wasn’t Hadiya.

Instead, as the intruder locked eyes with him, he vaguely recognized the assassin.

_…His master and the other man dressed in white robes talked quietly and while Much couldn’t sense any hostility, he could sense a healthy respect between the two men._

_…“Your master trusts me, so I am asking you to trust me.  This will help him recover from his fever…”_

_…“I can see why he places so much faith in you.  Your soul is pure and between you and the woman he calls Marian, the two of you must always protect him.”_

“You…” Much breathed out quietly as he had thought he would never see the man’s face again.  After all, they were technically on the opposite sides of the Crusades, or rather the Assassin Order was the neutral force within the Holy Lands, determined to make peace between Saladin and King Richard.

“ _Salaam_ , Much, trusted friend of Robin of Locksley.  I bring grim warnings from the Holy Land,” Altaїr Ibn la-Ahad greeted.

                                    *                      *                      *

“ _Salaam_ , Much, trusted friend of Robin of Locksley.  I bring grim warnings from the Holy Land,” Altaїr Ibn la-Ahad greeted watching the band of outlaws carefully.  So these were the men and woman that were completely loyal to him.

“Who are you?” the lone woman amongst them asked her tone fierce.  He was a bit surprised to see her hanging around with a bunch of men, wearing their clothes and her hair cut short.  She seemed like a capable fighter and looked like she was able to hold her own.

“He’s Altaїr, one of Robin’s…friends in the Holy Lands,” Much spoke up before turning back to him, lowering his weapons slightly, “but I thought you said you were going to stay there and make sure the Piece doesn’t fall into wrong hands.”

“Which is what Hadiya is after,” Altaїr took a step forward as the outlaws lowered their weapons, but didn’t put them away, still wary and hesitant.  He knew he looked almost exactly like Hadiya with his black outfit, save for a few modifications and his choice of weaponry, and knew that they had probably just escaped from the ambush she had set up for them.

“But…” Much looked confused before dread fell over his face and he shook his head, “no…no…you said they were all dead!  You even told Robin they were all dead!”

“The main leaders, yes, but do not think so lightly that there are just nine of them,” Altaїr shook his head, “I came immediately after Malik and the others found out Hadiya had discovered Robin has the Piece.”

“Hold on, what are you two talking about?” one of the others, a roguish looking man stepped forward, looking utterly confused.

“The Piece of Eden,” Much bit his lip, distressed, before glancing at him, “he can explain it.”

“It is an object of great power.  If it was in the wrong hands, millions fall under its sway and free will as we know it will be gone.  The Assassins Order of Masyaf has been searching the Holy Lands for other remnants of these objects.  We discovered that there was more than one created and made it our mission to make sure they were either guarded or hidden away so no one could find them.”

“Or horde it for yourself,” the young Saracen woman looked at him with suspicious eyes.

“Yeah,” the rogue agreed, “I don’t mean to be funny, but how do we know you’re not in league with Hadiya or that you plan to use this Piece of Eden for your own purposes.”

“Or even if your Order means well,” the young man in the back, holding a short ax in his hand stepped forward, followed silently by his large brutish-looking companion.

“I was sent to kill Hadiya,” he reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a white eagle’s feather, noting how the Saracen woman’s eyes widened in shock and fear, “and I see that you recognize this, young lady.”

“You…you were the one they were all talking about, who killed Majd Addin in Jerusalem, weren’t you?”

Altaїr flinched slightly, remembering how the soldiers had swarmed him after he had killed the so-called Executioner of Jerusalem, and how he had battered them back in a desperate attempt before fleeing to the roofs of the city and hiding out.  “Yes, I was,” he replied shortly.

“You…saved my brother that day,” she whispered before he took a closer look at her.  He thought he had vaguely recognize her as a ghost of his past when he had first seen her upon arriving in the camp and realized who she looked like now.  Her brother had been the informant whom was set to hang if Majd Addin had his way, the one Malik, when he was still Jerusalem’s Bureau leader, had told him he must save the informant.

“Thank you,” she looked shaken as she stepped a bit away from him and found comfort in the arms of the carpenter who had long ago put his ax away.

He glanced at the others, and saw that they had taken it as a sign that they could trust him, for the moment, and relaxed their guard.  Altaїr thought of it as the first step towards reaching his goal, “Hadiya will stop at nothing to get what she wants.  Have any of you notice where Robin kept a small object about the size of a pebble?”

“If it’s something that valuable, he would probably either keep it in his pack or with Marian,” Much pursed his lips, “he never showed it to me after you gave it to him.”

“Here’s his pack,” the gruff, hulking woodsman suddenly tossed a pack at the rogue who caught it and began to rifle through it.

“Hey!  That’s-“

“Listen, mate,” the rogue sounded offended, but Altaїr caught a note of real concern under his voice, “if Robin’s being held in Nottingham because of some little thing, then I say we should find it, give it to the Sheriff and get him back, no matter the cost.”

“No,” Altaїr stepped forward, shaking his head, “we’ll bargain him with it.  I need a clear shot at Hadiya.”

“What about Robin?” the carpenter asked.

“From the information I had gathered before I attempted to assassinate Hadiya, the peasants of the town mentioned that all of you have had experience getting in and out of the castle under the most dire of circumstances,” he nodded at them, “you will be rescuing Robin while I go after the Sheriff and Hadiya.”  He felt prudent not to mention that he wasn’t going to kill the Sheriff, but more or less, kill the Frenchman Templar and let the Sheriff see it as a warning.

“True,” the rogue shook his head before tossing the pack back at the woodsman, “nothing.  Just some clothes and stuff.”

Altaїr turned to Much, “This Marian, is she the same woman he talked about in the Holy Lands?”

“Yes,” Much nodded before glancing up in the sky, “but her house is being watched by the Sheriff’s men during the day.”

“It’s a trap when we go to Nottingham,” the Saracen woman spoke up, stepping away from the carpenter, “and even the Sheriff knows that.”

“Which is why I have a plan,” when he had first seen the outlaws, his mind had immediately started to analyze a plan that would utilize the skills these men and woman had in order to sneak back into Nottingham.

“Yep,” the rogue looked at him, “he’s definitely spent too much time with Robin in the Holy Lands.  He even thinks like him.”

The laughter, while a bit nervous, was a welcomed sound in the already tense camp and Altaїr allowed himself a quick smile before focusing on the task at hand.  _Don’t worry old friend, we’re coming for you…_

                                    *                      *                      *

**KNIGHTON HALL**

 

The way Robin described Marian didn’t do her justice in real life.  She looked even more beautiful in person Altaїr thought as he and the outlaws were allowed into her father’s home during the wee hours of the night.  During the daylight hours, they had gone over a plan that had to be executed in the span of a whole day and while Altaїr didn’t like to leave his friend in the dungeons for that long, especially with Hadiya in charge, he knew that any other hastily put together plan would result in all of their capture or worst, death.

During the day, he had learned all of the outlaws’ names and while was initially curious as to why they joined up with Robin and why Robin went from being a lord of the land to an outlaw, he had found out the story from his men and realized that Nottinghamshire was truly a corrupt place.  While the lawlessness in Acre was prevalent, there was the presence of soldiers to deter most crimes.  Here, fear pervaded the area and the peasants lived without hope and taxed to death.  He would have done the same in Robin’s boots and fight against the Sheriff.

However, he didn’t understand if a government was this corrupted why Marian didn’t fight against it until he figured out that she was doing it from the inside after he mentioned Robin being held captive by the Sheriff.

“This Piece of Eden…it’s pebble sized?” Marian asked, pursing her lips.

“It is a dull grey, but has many intricate carvings on it.  The original Piece of Eden that we found was the size of one of your apples,” he explained.

“I don’t recall Robin giving me anything like that,” she shook her head, “I’m sorry.”

“Well then where could it be?” Much looked frustrated.

Altaїr suspected that Robin must have kept the Piece with him at all times, which was admirable, yet very dangerous should Hadiya discover it on him.  He knew that they had to act fast and negotiating with Hadiya wasn’t an option.

“The plan could still work,” Will spoke up from the corner and everyone turned to look at him and he held up a piece of small wood he had been whittling away at all day.  Altaїr had forgotten that the resident carpenter had asked him about what the Piece looked like and now stared at an almost-perfect replica of the one he had given to Robin before he left to go back to England.

“Is that it?” Marian and her father, Edward, looked intrigued.

“A replica,” Will explained before tossing him the pebble-sized piece of wood.  He hefted it in his hand and marveled at its weight.  It even felt like the weight of a pebble.  The only thing that made it stood out was that it was the light brown color of wood instead of the grey of a rock, but Altaїr knew that it would work in their favor since Hadiya didn’t know what color the Piece was.

He nodded his approval at Will who quirked up a small smile.  “The others should be at their assigned positions by now.  I will meet the two of you in the town,” he said and both Much and Will headed out of Knighton Hall.

“Sir Altaїr-“

“Just Altaїr, milady.  I am no lord or holder of lands,” he turned to face Marian, noting that her father had kept his distance to give them some privacy.

“Altaїr,” she nodded, understanding, “let me go with you.”

“Marian!” her father stepped forward in concern.

“No,” Altaїr shook his head.

“I can help, I can fight-“

“No,” he shook his head more firmly, “I cannot allow you to do that milady.”

“Do not tell me what-“

“While I appreciate the valor you have for saving Robin of Locksley,” he cut her off with a hard stare, “you do not understand the consequences.  If we were to be captured by Hadiya, then your efforts to expose the Sheriff for all of his corruption within the government will be for naught.  She will use you to make Robin tell her where the Piece of Eden is.”

Marian frowned, knowing that he was right yet wanted to protest some more and Altaїr had to admire her stubbornness.  It reminded him a lot of Adha in ways…

“When he was in the Holy Lands fighting for the King, he told me that there was only one thing more precious to him than his own life.  He told me that he would do anything to protect it and it was you,” his looked away from her, “do not throw your own life away so rashly.”

“You talk as if it was personal,” he turned back to see her staring at him with a mix of pity and of curiosity.

Altaїr hesitated for a second before giving her the barest of nods, “I do.”

“Then at least bring him here when you rescue him.  I’ll tend to his injuries,” Marian clasped her hands together.

He gave her a curious look before she shook her head, “Robin wouldn’t allow himself to be captured so easily unless there were tongues involved so he will be injured no matter how big or small.  I can at least provide some care for him before he runs back into that woodwork he calls the woods.”

“As you wish,” he gave her a slight bow before nodding a goodbye to Sir Edward and headed out the door, disappearing into the night.

                                    *                      *                      *

**Author’s Notes:**

            Hope you like this story so far.  I have to admit, this story is definitely a lot shorter than Well Met Steel and I had meant it to be an episodic two-parter, but I thought it would give readers an easier time reading if I chopped it into three parts.  Last part coming soon!  Then I’m off to work on _Tournament_ and _Solace of Silence_.  My beta Algae09 told me that Altaїr seems a bit chatty at times and I had to tell her that in the game (she finished the game 2 months before I did), he is quite chatty on certain subjects then shuts up for the most part.  ^_^


	3. Part 3: Restraint

Robin Hood: The Assassin’s Gift

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  This story takes place roughly at the end of July, early August and crosses over with _Assassin’s Creed_.  I have two companion stories to this one, _Silence_ , a one-shot, and _Solace of Silence_ , which is in the process of being written and takes place one year prior to Robin’s return from the Holy Lands.

 

**Story:**

_Part 3 – Restraint_

 

The heat of the red-hot poker didn’t touch his skin, but it hovered near it enough that he wanted to flinch away, but his body wouldn’t cooperate with him.  He was still paralyzed from the knife wound to which he knew had been laced with something to make him feel this way.  Whereas he should have been mobile long ago, they had forced a liquid concoction of the paralyzing agent down his throat at least an hour ago, or what felt like an hour ago, before strapping him in chains and letting him hang limply from them against his cell’s walls.

Robin felt like he was on fire, sweaty, and very dizzy, his body reacting to the paralyzing agent and to the effects of his torture that had felt like a lifetime.  Unbidden memories of what had happened to him in the Holy Lands poured over his mind as he recognized all of the symptoms he was having to this type of torture.

“ _Tell me Crusader, where is the Piece?_ ” it sounded like Hadiya’s voice, yet it was also overlapped with the voice of his previous captor…making her tone warped and distinct.

He forced his mouth muscles to at least somewhat cooperate with him and cracked a very lopsided smile as he opened his eyes and stared at her wavering form, occasionally splitting into twos and then back into a single person holding the red-hot poker.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he shot back, hoping his words didn’t sound as muddled as he knew that they probably were.

The poker immediately touched his skin through his shirt, sending waves of pain rippling through him as he hissed in pain.  A part of him struggled desperately to flinch away but his muscles wouldn’t move to his commands.  Just as suddenly the pain subsided and he opened his eyes once more to see that the poker had moved away from his skin.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?  How with just the briefest of touches from this would make your body and mind react as if it had been burned for a lot longer period,” Hadiya gave him a feral smile, “now are you willing to cooperate or do you want to feel more pain?”

Robin gave a weak chuckle and let his head rest against the wall.  “It doesn’t matter what you do to me, you’ll never find it,” he whispered.

Hadiya’s eyes flashed with anger before she suddenly raked the poker across his chest, and flames of pain erupted along the line of cut that she drew there.  This time, he couldn’t hold back the cry of pain and bit his lip in an effort to stifle it.

“I will find the Piece and in that process you will die, slowly.  You will feel your life slipping away inch by inch.  The Templars will have that Piece of Eden, Crusader Robin of Locksley,” Hadiya slapped the poker against the underside of his left arm, sending fresh waves of pain throughout his body.

He saw her snap her fingers at a servant who brought forth a tray with a couple of cups on it.  She took one off of the tray before approaching him and he instinctively tried to shrink away from whatever she had in her hand.  Forcing as much of his muscles as he could control to close his mouth, he glared at her.

“No matter what you do, you will drink it,” she tipped the cup onto his lips before suddenly punching him where the hot poker had slapped against his arm, making him gasp in pain.

Immediately the liquid poured their fire into his mouth and Robin tried to stop it from rolling down his throat but she immediately dropped the cup and forced her hand across his mouth, forcing him to gulp and swallow the fiery liquid down.  She released him and he gasped, coughing from the force of the liquid and from the pain of his wounds.

He could feel the effects of the liquid potion she had forced into him.  His muscles began to relax and he found that he could move…but each time he did, every single minute movement sent spasms of agony throughout his whole body.  He could feel the coolness of his chains touching his skin, but even the coolness was like a white hot poker of torture.  The spikes of pain shooting through him made him want to curl him inside himself and never come out as he gritted his teeth.  He wouldn’t give her the pleasure of hearing him cry or scream.

No, he would move beyond the pain, beyond everything…he would-

The sudden burst of agonizing pain ripped the scream from his throat, raw and unabated as Hadiya kicked him viciously across the stomach, connecting with both his already tormented body and the wound from the brief touch of the hot poker.  He instinctively curled himself as much as he could; sending fresh ripples of pain with each movement of his muscles.

“See how much you cry, Crusader?” Hadiya’s voice came from a far long tunnel in the midst of his pain, “I will break you.  And you will tell me where the Piece of Eden is.”

He blearily opened his eyes, a part of his afraid of what he would see.  _Black robed assassins surrounding him, cruel smiles, flashes of knives…_

No!  Only the face of Hadiya, the only one dressed in black robes, the only Saracen in the cell…and beyond him, what seemed like the blurry form of a black-leather garbed man that was vaguely familiar…but somehow he couldn’t place the man’s name.  He knew that man…

Another wave of agony rolled through him as Hadiya once more kicked him across the ribs and he focused all of his attention back on the black-garbed assassin, forgetting about the man for the moment.

“Tell.  Me.  Where.  It.  Is,” each word was punctuated by a kick and spasms of pain, so much that Robin pulled against his chains and tried to hug the ground, desperate to find some kind of purchase, some kind of reality to ground himself in before losing himself to the world of blindingly white pain.  He breathed into the dirty ground, trying to find some relief, but there was none as his head was ripped from the ground, Hadiya holding his hair in a painful grip.  Her inky black eyes glittered with maliciousness and in those eyes; he saw the long forgotten, long buried darkness that he had seen in his captors back in the Holy Lands.

Those eyes…

_Deep inside of Robin, a dark dragon laid, slumbering until it was called for in the direst of times.  This was the dragon that had fueled Robin through some of his most desperate times in the Holy Lands.  And when the eye appeared, it saw it as a sign…the sign that he needed to come to his Master’s aide and defeat those who threatened to harm him.  This was the true Crusader that Robin had so longed to bury…the sickness that plagued almost every soldier who had went to battle for five long years and those who were still in battle…_

Hadiya suddenly slammed his head back onto the ground and the last thing Robin felt before he lost consciousness was the awakening of the darkness inside himself…

_He would kill anyone who stood in his way._

                                    *                      *                      *

Guy of Gisborne was, admittedly, disturbed.

Though he felt almost no sympathy watching Hadiya methodically torture Robin of Locksley, he was disturbed by the fashion in which she did it.  He had conducted numerous tortures himself, but the way Hadiya conducted hers made it look like a sadistic form of art.  During his brief time in the Holy Lands, he was aware of how the assassins conducted their investigations and torture, but never really observed it until now.  Even so, he suspected Hadiya took a bit too much pleasure in what she was doing than what was probably normal.

Still…if it was to find the Piece of Eden, then he suspected the Templars used any means to find out where the Pieces were.

But it also looked like Locksley was very resistant to the torture, something he never suspected.  He almost reacted as if he had been through this type of torture before…and wondered if Hadiya could see it too.

He watched as Hadiya emerged from the cell, her eyebrows knitted in anger, Locksley unconscious in his cell.  She didn’t look pleased at all…

“I take it he didn’t speak,” he asked, watching her carefully.

“He will,” she replied a bit tersely before turning to the jail keeper and guard, “make sure he stays drugged.”

The two nodded fearfully before giving her a wide berth to pass by them.  She marched passed them without another word or glance and Gisborne followed her, wondering what she was up to.  “Gisborne, take your men and search Sherwood for Hood’s camp.”

“It’s dark,” he raised an eyebrow, “and I doubt the men would be able to see anything at night.”

“I don’t care what you have to do, I want his camp found.  If he won’t reveal the location of the Piece, then we will search his camp.”

“What about his men?” Gisborne narrowed his eyes, wondering where her current fervor came from.  It was almost as if she didn’t care for the consequences.  He found her behavior alarming.  Just days ago she was scheming and now she was a tempest of fury and hunger for the Piece.  Is this what the Piece did to people, or at least those searching for it?

“I’m sure overwhelming force will be sufficient,” she gave him a look before her eyes narrowed; “you think I am foolish to suggest such things right now, don’t you?”

“I don’t-“

“I do not care for what your leash-holder has ordered me to do.  The Piece is the most important objective here.  The Templars’ mission takes priority.  Your Sheriff’s request was just an added bonus to my mission,” her eyes flashed angrily before she looked up at him in earnest, a fever light in her dark eyes, “that Piece can win us the war.  It can defeat King Richard and his infidel forces, drive all of the Crusaders out of our Holy Lands and enable the Templars to control things.  Do you not want that to happen?”

Guy opened his mouth a few times before nodding, “I will begin my search now.  However, I must inform the Sheriff.”

“Yes, yes,” she suddenly waved him away before turning her predatory gaze on the unconscious Robin Hood, “do whatever you must.  I must have that Piece.”

Guy backed away slowly and softly, noting how she suddenly snapped her fingers at the still scared guards before barking at them to wake Hood up once more for another round of torture.  This was a disturbing turn of events…and he knew that Vaysey would want to hear about it.

As he walked out of the dungeons the fresh shouts of pain started up again, but he didn’t even care one bit.

                                    *                      *                      *

Vaysey held a goblet of wine in his fingers, rolling it around, a part of him mesmerized by its swirl.  “You know, sometimes I can’t even taste the wine, too rich for my palate,” he commented lazily to his guest, the French noble Le Celle, “and sometimes, I think it tastes too thick, like blood.  Odd, don’t you think?”

“Not very,” the Frenchman replied.  “There is a saying amongst the court nobles that sometimes drunk on wine is like drunk on blood.”

He looked at the Frenchman, a bit confused.  “What does that mean?”

“The thickness of blood chokes the life out of those who are weak and cannot breathe anymore,” the French noble replied, “I have informed my Brothers of what has been transpiring here.”

“I do hope it has been a favorable review,” Vaysey gave him a quick smile before the door suddenly opened and he narrowed his eyes as his _lieutenant_ stumbled in, a slightly haunted look on his face.  “What is it?” he snapped.

Instead of answering him, Gisborne turned to the Frenchman and his haunted looked turned into a full glare.  “Your little minion is out of control.”

“Torturing the one you call Robin Hood, I suppose,” Le Celle replied almost casually, a little too casual for Vaysey’s liking, “yes, that is her specialty.  We’ve trained her since she was a young girl at the art.  She’s almost fanatical about it.”

“She is ruining the plan.”

“Plan?” Vaysey did not like the sound of that, “what plan?”

“You needn’t worry about it, Sir Guy.”

“What plan?!” he cut in, standing up and shouting at his second-in-command.  How could he not know that Gisborne had second loyalties?  Was he so blind?

Gisborne ignored him and instead approached Le Celle, standing almost nose to nose with him.  “The Piece will be lost if she continues in this fashion. I’ve already sent my men out to the outlaws’ camp to search for it, but I doubt they will find anything.  She keeps torturing Hood and he will snap.  All will be lost.”

“You sound sympathetic to Hood’s cause, Sir Guy,” Le Celle’s eyes flashed with a dangerous look, “do not tell me that you have grown soft in your time here…”

Vaysey felt like a third-wheel in the whole conversation, yet he didn’t approach the two sensing that something was amiss.  There was something dangerous about Gisborne, the way he held himself, and he wondered…

“Tell your men to subdue her.”

“But he came without-“

“You have grown soft, Guy of Gisborne.  Perhaps we will need to purge the softness from you…” Le Celle interrupted whatever Vaysey was going to say.

“Oh really?” a sudden dangerous quality lit Gisborne’s voice and Vaysey realized that this was a side he had rarely seen in his second-in-command.  Sure, he had thought Guy needed a bit of prodding and hints to bring out the innate ruthlessness inside of him, but he didn’t realize that it didn’t need prodding…it only needed the right set of circumstances.

A sudden shout of surprise from the courtyard made Vaysey roll his eyes as he realized what had happened.  Hood’s friends had managed to spring him out of the dungeons and escape.  How they overpowered Hadiya was beyond him, but he figured it was probably the resourcefulness of that other assassin that made it possible.

“It seems…Sheriff; your plan to let Altaїr Ibn la-Ahad escape to warn the outlaws was a bit…flawed.”

“No, it was the perfect plan,” Gisborne was a sudden flurry of movement even so fast that Vaysey barely saw it as a sharp shooting pain lanced through his head.  But the results were the same.

One minute the Frenchman was standing upright, the next, blood spurted out of his lips in a messy red fountain while a spray of blood coated Gisborne’s face as the noble’s neck was sliced wide open from ear to ear.  His lieutenant suddenly let go of the grip he had on the noble’s jacket and the dead body dropped to the ground in a thump.

Vaysey let the corner of his lips quirk up in a grin as he stepped from his seat, the pain gone and his head feeling as if a burden had been lifted upon it, and walked over to Gisborne who was cleaning his hidden dagger.  “Messy, but I like it,” he commented in an off-handed manner.

“Here’s the Piece,” Gisborne unclenched the fist he had on Le Celle’s jacket and a small glowing stone the half the size of his palm pulsated like a heartbeat.

“When did you realize the influence had spread?” Vaysey would never admit it to Gisborne, but he had felt so duped into helping Le Celle that when his lieutenant had approached him and literally knocked some sense into him sometime before they let the other assassin escape to Hood’s camp, he was somewhat proud of his second-in-command taking at least some initiative.

“The Templars may only think of the war in the Holy Land and eventual conquest of the world, but Le Celle was destined to only use you and then get rid of you.”

“Ah, so your loyalties-“

“Are of no concern,” Gisborne interrupted him before handing him the Piece, “each Templar carries their own Piece.”

“Really…” that was news to him.  If Gisborne had a Piece, could he have been influencing him without him noticing it?  The consequences of that would be rather disturbing…and maybe that was why Hood escaped so many times.  Perhaps Gisborne was convincing him of his plans all the while, setting him up so that Prince John would come and execute him and then Gisborne would be able to take over Nottinghamshire.

But as he stared at Gisborne, he could see no hint of deception or of scheming plans in the man.  Perhaps his quarrel was only with Hood and instead was loyal to power and to him.

“My own was destroyed long ago when I failed my mission to kill the King,” Gisborne continued.

“I have to ask…why?”

“Because Hadiya’s Piece will be mine,” he said in a simple tone and Vaysey finally got the message, but was still curious about one thing.

“How do you know where it will be?”

Gisborne suddenly lifted up his sleeve and Vaysey stared at the scarred remnants of the tattoo he had burnt away with the Saracen’s acid a few months ago.  “The tattoos the Templars receive are attuned to the presence of the Pieces.  However scarred, mine will still lead me to the active Piece.”

“Which you think Hadiya will have?”

“She wouldn’t have parted with it if she was still alive.  No, it will be active for a while even if the user is dead,” Gisborne replied.

Vaysey stared at the Piece and its glow got a bit brighter, “I think it’s a good time for a little night ride, don’t you think?  Ride with Hadiya’s men and make sure you bring back both Pieces.”

                                    *                      *                      *

**_A couple of hours earlier…_ **

 

Altaїr slipped quietly along the walls of the now familiar NottinghamCastle.  Having been here a second time and with the help of Robin’s men, he was now aware of the guard checkpoints and spots to avoid while sneaking in.  He had sent the others ahead of him to make sure that they would be able to get Robin out of the dungeons without any problems.  With Hadiya’s Saracen assassins added into the guards guarding the castle it was time for more elaborate plans than a simple fire at one of the gates to distract them.  No, the assassins were trained and it would take a lot of deception to get past them.

Much and Djaq were to infiltrate the kitchens, since some of the servant girls and cooks there knew them and were always willing to help them.  They would stand by with a cart of ‘refuse’ to be taken out of Nottingham castle.  Little John and Will were going to be by the north gate, replacing the two guards that normally patrolled the area at night.  Allan had the hardest job of all, infiltrating the inner confines of the castle and posing as a guard who would distract the others while he slipped into the dungeons to find Robin.

He had originally wanted Will to be the one to infiltrate the inner confines, due to his skill with carpentry, but after seeing how much the young man worried about Robin’s health and well-being, even with Djaq’s reassurances, he had decided against choosing him.  By the time they found Robin, Altaїr knew that Robin would have probably been tortured by Hadiya and he didn’t want to subject them to the initial extent of his injuries.

Surprisingly Allan had volunteered for the hardest part of their mission and when he had asked why the ex-con man and thief had replied that he owed Robin.  He had seen something pass between the other members of the gang and while he didn’t know the details he figured it was probably something very important to Allan enough for him to risk his own life to save Robin’s.

Altaїr suddenly ducked behind a slightly open door as some of the elite guards of the Sheriff’s turned a corner in one of the long corridors and marched right past him.  He watched them with hooded eyes as they passed by him without a single glance.  As soon as they had turned another corner, he slipped out of his hiding place and continued quietly down the corridor the guards came from.

He hid in the shadows a few more times as he slowly made his way towards the dungeons, having memorized the route from where he had been taken from a couple of days ago to be paraded around the courtyard of the castle.  There were definitely a lot of patrols and Altaїr wondered if he should have pulled Will from the north gate to help be an extra pair of eyes to infiltrate the guards.

If Robin was in no condition to walk out on his own, then it would be hard for him and Allan to carry him out of the dungeons without arousing suspicion.  He finally reached the door to the dungeons and pulled on it…only to find it locked.

He cursed silently, wondering if Allan had been caught.  He was supposed to have already gotten the keys from the guard who was stationed near the dungeons and unlocked the door before continuing his patrol as if nothing had happened.

“Oy, you!” a voice called down from the corridor and Altaїr turned to see two guards walking towards him and he tensed, his left hand ready with his hidden blade.

“What are you doing there?!” the same guard asked him as they came closer.  He tensed, his whole body prepared to strike-

“Oy, there you are!” Allan’s loud and boisterous voice called from behind the two guards and Altaїr frowned, wondering what the man was doing as he raced down the corridor, one hand holding his helmet, the other holding his sword from slapping against his legs.

The guards turned, ready to ask what the hell Allan was doing when he sped past them and skidded to a stop in front of him before placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.  Altaїr glared at Allan, wondering what in the name of Allah was he planning, but stayed silent.  His body was still tensed and ready to strike at the two guards should anything happen, but sensed that the ex-thief had a plan of sorts.

“I’m glad I found you.  Haven’t I told you that the Sheriff’s quarters are the other way, not this way?  I mean, sheesh, you and your buddies do get lost a lot.”

“Oy, you,” the guard that had been shouting at him now turned his attention on Allan, “do you know him?”

“Yeah!” Allan gave the guard a cocky grin, “he’s one of Hadiya’s men.  Sheriff said he wanted to talk to him about something since he’s like second-in-command or something like that, I don’t really know how assassin hierarchy works, but anyways, he’s wandered off.”

“I was going to see my master first before talking to your Sheriff,” Altaїr caught on quickly, pitching his voice on a lower register and making his soft accented English harder to understand.  “However, this door has been locked.”

“Ah, well,” the same guard looked a bit guilty, “the lady told us no one was to disturb her.  Lord Gisborne had us lock up after he left.”

“Open it,” he growled out, giving the two guards a steely glower, “or I will break it open.”

He could see their faces drain of color at his threat before the other silent one fumbled for his keys and hastily unlocked the dungeon doors.

“Go on, get out of here.  I’ll make sure he doesn’t cause trouble, all right?” Allan turned from him and waved the two thoroughly scared guards away and they nodded before hastily moving down the corridor and disappearing behind a corner.

Altaїr brushed past Allan and pulled the door open before giving a pointed look at Allan.  “What took you?” he cleared his throat.  He hated faking and throwing his voice into a deeper register even though it got results.

“Little John had some problems with one of the captains at the north gate and Will was in the middle of helping Much and Djaq infiltrate the kitchens.  Luckily we took care of the problem,” Allan apologized quietly, shrugging.

“Will anyone notice?” he asked as they crept quietly down the stairs.

“Probably not,” Allan replied, “Little John’s taken the captain’s position-“

A hoarse scream of pain shut Allan up and Altaїr perked up slightly.  He quickly and quietly moved forward and peered around the corner.  All of the other cells were empty save for the one farthest from him at the end of the small hallway.  The battered form of a man was crumpled to the ground, one chain barely holding his arm up and a black-dressed figure hovered over said crumpled man.

Altaїr’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he assessed the situation just as Hadiya kicked Robin again in the stomach, making him involuntarily curl up and a choked scream escaped his lips.  He whimpered and coughed slightly, face twisting up in a grimace before trying to uncurl himself and straighten his body.

“Good God…” Allan whispered behind him, “She’s killing him!”

Altaїr suddenly shot out his arm to prevent the outlaw from charging recklessly towards Hadiya, who looked fully occupied with her methodical torture of Robin.  He gave him a firm look before gesturing for him to stay back a bit.  Drawing out his knives, he aimed the first one at one of the soldiers standing near the cell, a sick expression on his face.  “When you see your chance, I want you to take the keys off of the guard on the right and unlock the chains.  Then take Robin out of here.”

“I don’t mean to be funny, but what if Hadiya’s got those knives like you do?  I’d be a sitting duck.”

“I’ll deal with her,” he replied before he threw his knives with quick accuracy.  The three guards and the jail keeper that had been loitering around all suddenly dropped to the ground almost soundlessly, before he readied his fifth knife and threw it at Hadiya.

He wasn’t surprised when her hand suddenly flew into the air and caught his knife.  Stepping out of the shadows, he let his hands hover loosely by his sides.  Assassinating Hadiya was not going to be easy…

“Eagle emblem… Altaїr my dear, is that you?” she looked at the knife before turning her face slightly so that he could clearly see the half predatory smile on her face, “pity…”

He caught his own knife that she suddenly threw back before charging at her, unsheathing his short sword from his back and lunged out with it.  It scraped across a blade she brought up from her hand and he immediately twisted around.  “Allan, now!” he shouted to the thief before driving her back into another cell wall, hoping to pin her against the bars, giving Allan just enough time to grab the keys and make it towards Robin.

“No!” her shriek of rage pierced his ears before she tried to use her free arm to dig out a knife to throw at Allan.  He grunted as he reached out with his own free hand to bat that one down and only half managed to do so.

Still, the knife went flying towards Allan, but the outlaw ducked at the last second, giving him a wide-eyed look before grabbing the keys and dove towards Robin.  At the same time, Altaїr crumpled slightly, hunching over as Hadiya kneed him in the stomach.  He barely saw her next blow and only managed to grab her hand that was going towards his face and twisted it sharply behind her back before throwing her unceremoniously against the bars that he had been trying to pin her on.

Backing up a half step, he held out his knife in front of him and watched as she turned around, a dazed look on her face, but a cruel smile on her lips before she suddenly launched herself at him.  He caught her blade just in front of his face and gritted his teeth at the strength she was putting behind her blow.  His left arm came up and he tried to stab at her neck, but she caught his hand in a vise-like grip.

“I know all of your tricks Little Eagle…” she whispered to him, her dark eyes glittering like cold marbles, “stabbing me with your blade will not work.”

“I wasn’t aiming for you,” he retorted before activating the blade with the barest flick of his wrist.  The smooth and thin cool metal slid effortlessly out of its hidden sheath, right where his left ring finger used to be and pierced her hand with a soft crunch of bones.  She gave a shout of pain and her warm blood poured down his hand, but he didn’t stop there and ripped the blade across, where it hitched for a second before jerking free of her hand.

She collapsed to the ground, clutching her badly wounded and mangled hand and he stepped back, gripping the front of her clothes to keep her from falling completely on the ground.  Behind him he could hear Allan half successful in dragging Robin out of the cell as evident with the scraping of chains and the loud grunt of exertion in carrying him.

“You Hadiya, known as the Gift of the Assassins, have betrayed our creed and our brothers and sisters.  You have joined the Templars in seeking glory and power for your own purpose and not for the greater good.  You have sought the escalation of war between Saladin and King Richard-“

“Don’t…start on my faults just yet, Little Eagle,” she suddenly cut him off and Altaїr narrowed his eyes before blinking suddenly as a white light pierced his gaze.

“ _Let me go…let me go…let me go…_ ” a soft voice suddenly whispered and somehow, he felt that he had to obey the order.  He didn’t know where it came from, but it somehow felt right…

“ _Take your knife…take your…take your knife…your knife…use it…  Use it…  Use it to kill…_

“ _Kill…kill…kill…the outlaws…outlaws…  Take your knife and use it…kill the outlaws…_ ”

Yeah…it was right.  He had to kill the outlaws.  It was because they ruined everything.  They were the ones who didn’t provide him with the best intelligence.  He walked into a trap when he got here.  He had to-

Wait.  No…

“ _Kill…the outlaws…_ ”

No…this wasn’t right.  Altaїr shook his head, trying to will his vision to see something, anything, anything but the white light in front of him.

“ _Outlaws…must…die…  Die…_ ”

“ _Stop it_ ,” a harsh, guttural voice boomed and the white light suddenly disappeared from his sight, leaving Altaїr gasping for breath and he stumbled slightly from the disorientation before catching himself.  Looking up, he blinked in surprise at the sight that greeted him.  Hadiya had propped herself up on the bars of the cell next to Robin’s and was holding a glowing and pulsating Piece of Eden, her eyes white and unseen.

That was most likely the voice he had been hearing, persuading him to release her and use his weapon against Robin and Allan.  But the sight that surprised him was Robin, standing tall as if his grievous wounds weren’t bothering him his eyes black as the night, his normal green irises also turned black and in his hand was the pebble-sized Piece of Eden that Altaїr remembered so clearly giving to him before he had left the Holy Land.

“I promise…I will protect the Piece with my life.”

“The temptation will be great to use it…”

“But I’ve seen what happened to your brothers and don’t worry friend, I will never use it unless it was the direst of circumstances or if the King orders me to do so.”

“If it was any other man, then I wouldn’t trust them, but your King Richard seems to know what is at stake.  I only hope that he and Saladin will see their folly in this war and come to their senses.”

“It is in safe hands, my friend.”

“ _So…you’ve had the Piece all along, Locksley_ ,” Hadiya’s soft whispery voice cut through the air.  “ _Give it to me…_ ”

“ _Go kill yourself_ ,” was the harsh, raspy reply.

“Robin…” Allan started to warn his leader and Altaїr held up a hand to stop the outlaw from saying anything else.

“It is a battle of wills right now.  Whoever has the stronger influence with the Piece over the other will win…  Do not distract him,” he warned Allan before stepping almost noiselessly and slowly away from Hadiya, trying not to draw her attention.  He had seen how the Pieces of Eden worked and they were very dangerous.  On a group of people or even a single individual, it was a dominating force of persuasion and mind control.  Against another person who held a Piece, it was a contest of wills.  The Piece granted the user at least some unique ability to command those who were of weaker mind and sometimes manifested itself through unusual vocal forms or powers.

When he had first encountered the Piece through his former master Al Mualim and their decisive battle, his former master had the ability to freeze him in his place through sheer force of will and also the ability to replicate real fighter-strength illusions of himself to do battle.  He had also massive influence over the villagers of Masyaf and his fellow brothers of the Assassin Bureaus, turning them into mindless puppets to be thrown at him as cannon fodder.

He had never seen neither Hadiya nor Robin use the Piece and could _feel_ the persuasive force that both were using against each other through their vocal powers that the Piece granted them.

“What-“

Altaїr shook his head before motioning for Allan to back away.  When the ex-thief started to move he saw Hadiya’s eyes suddenly track towards him and Altaїr took his chance and sprung into action.  He leapt forward, left arm aimed down towards her neck, when she suddenly turned her head and her white-light filled eyes bore into his-

-A flash of white light-

_“Altaїr…where did you go?” a little girl’s voice called from the village and he could hear it close to where he was hiding in a basket, the two children in the midst of playing a game of hide and seek._

_He was tempted to pop out to stop little Hadiya from searching like she did for the last half-hour, but a grin worked its way up his face.  Maybe he should-_

_“Ah ha!  Found you!” light suddenly filled his basket and he glanced up to see her giggling at him, a shawl covering her face, only her glittering and laughing black eyes showing the smile that he could not see on her lips._

But he could feel the cold hard steel of his bracer and metal knife hitting her exposed neck and he instinctively pulled the trigger for the blade to launch from its hiding spot.  It dug into her neck and immediately the white flash of light that had him seeing flashes of images from his childhood disappeared and all that was left was her pain filled face before the blade poked its tip out of the other side of her neck.

He could see the faintest of outlines of her pupils and eyes roll back into her head as he retracted the blade and she slumped to the ground, already dead.  The glow from her eyes slowly faded, leaving her with sightless black eyes that stared at the ceiling from beyond the grave.

Altaїr stared at Hadiya’s lifeless body for a few seconds, barely hearing the thump of Robin collapsing behind him, having release the influence of the Piece from himself, before pulling out a white feather from the folds of his black robes and kneeled down next to the body.  He didn’t say anything as he drew the feather across her neck, bathing it in her blood and shook it only a couple of times to let the blood dry quickly before placing it back into the folds of his robes.

“What was that?” Allan asked as he turned and walked over to where Robin laid, his hand still gripping the Piece of Eden.  It was then that he noticed that a part of Robin’s boots looked a bit deformed and realized that was where his friend had kept the Piece after leaving the Holy Land.  He couldn’t believe it…Robin had kept the Piece with him at all times like he had promised even though a lesser man would have thrown it away or abused its power.

“The Assassins require proof that Hadiya is dead.  The feather with her blood will prove her death and provide a warning to the Templars that their agent has failed.”

“What about Robin?”

“What about him?” he countered, looking evenly at the outlaw who gulped and shrugged.

“None of my concern,” he mumbled before reaching out and touching the inactive Piece.

“Do not touch that,” Altaїr warned him sharply before snatching it from under his fingers and stuffed it back into Robin’s boot.

“Okay, okay, sheesh,” Allan looked hurt, “it’s not like I was going to use it and go wonky on you guys.”

“You do not know its power,” he replied shortly before getting up and going over to Hadiya’s body and grabbed the Piece out of her hand, barely noticing that it still pulsated with a glow.

“Well, power or not, we need to get him out of here,” Allan started to lift up one of Robin’s arms and Altaїr nodded before going to his friend’s other side and helping him up to his feet.

Robin groaned from the movement and his eyes fluttered open slightly.  “Wha…”

“Shh,” he said in a quiet voice, bringing his friend’s head around slightly, “you are amongst friends, Robin.  We’re going to get you out…”

“Can you walk?” Allan spoke up.

Robin made a noise of agreement before he slowly stepped forward, his face flashing with pain each time he put his foot down.  Altaїr frowned as he noticed the number of bruises and wounds that were covering his friend.  This was not the way he wanted to see Robin after his time in the Holy Land…

“Allan,” he called to the outlaw who looked over, “clear us a path.  I will help him.”

“You sure?”

“I am stronger than I look,” he replied.

“All right…” Allan didn’t look too convinced, but did as he was ordered and gently leaned Robin onto him before hurrying ahead to make sure that the corridors were clear.

“Hang on my friend.  We’ll be out of here soon,” Altaїr said as they started up the steps to get out of the dungeons.  They were almost free…

                                    *                      *                      *

Much hated waiting and so paced around the kitchens, wondering what was taking Altaїr and Allan so long to get Robin out of the dungeons.  Perhaps they ran into Hadiya and she had killed them?  No… Altaїr was definitely much more formidable than to let one of his own kind kill him.  And Allan…well, Much still didn’t trust him as much as he did before, after all, he did try to kill Robin, but he suspected Allan wouldn’t go down without a fight.

He peered out into the halls and didn’t see any guards rushing around the area so maybe Allan and Altaїr were still alive.  Unless of course they were killed by Hadiya…

“Have you no little faith?” Djaq suddenly spoke up; stopping him mid-pace and he realized he had voiced his last thoughts out loud.

“Sorry,” he replied, giving her a sideways look, “I just don’t do well with waiting…”

“They are strong men, Much,” the Saracen woman replied, giving him a faint smile, “if you lose faith in them, then hope will be lost.”

“I know, I know,” he wrung his hands together and stared out into the dark and dimly lit corridors above the kitchens, hoping to see any sign of them, “I just…you don’t understand.  None of you do…”

“Understand what?” Djaq stared at him curiously.

“Robin…” he hesitated, wondering if he should tell her one of the darkest secrets he had kept with him during his and Robin’s time in the Holy Lands.  But he felt like he needed to tell someone, anyone…well, not anyone, after all Marian would be completely horrified and he knew that Robin didn’t want his dearest Marian to find out about the secret.  Huffing a sigh, he finally made his decision and turned to stare at Djaq, knowing that if there was anyone that could help Robin, hell even help him cope, it was her.  “Do you promise not to tell anyone?  Not even Marian?”

She stared at him levelly for a few seconds before nodding, “I promise.”

“Good, because he’s going to kill me if he finds out that I told someone,” he muttered mostly to himself, but caught the half-smile on her face and shook his head, “never mind.”

“Much…Robin will never find out.  I will not tell a soul, except for Allah when I die,” Djaq reached out and squeezed his hand in reassurance, “now…what is it?”

“Back in the Holy Lands…when we fought, there were times…” he paused for a second, unsure of how to proceed, “well, there were times when Robin wasn’t quite himself.”

She nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

“You and the others have seen glimpses of it…you know, when we found out Gisborne was the assassin that gave Robin his scar-“

“I’m still not sure that story is true, Much.”

“Well, it is,” Much knew that her point was very much valid since even he didn’t see it, but he had faith that his former Master was telling the truth, even though it ate away at him, “I believe him.”

There was an awkward moment of silence following his declaration before he cleared his throat and continued, “And most recently when James of Atherstone set up that elaborate trap for us…”

“You mean when he chased us into the woods.  Much, I can see Robin angry over the fact that James gravely wounded Marian with his crossbow.”

“No…you remember just as well as I do.  You saw the…darkness…in his eyes,” Much suddenly felt awkward, hesitant that what he was describing to Djaq was doing it justice.

“Anyways,” he stared out into the night, “no one knows him as well as I do.  He…carries a darkness inside of him, that’s the best I can describe it, and I…hate the way it consumes him.”

“Much…does this have to do with Hadiya or even Altaїr?”

“Oh no…not Altaїr,” he turned and shook his head vehemently, “never Altaїr.  He’s the one that managed to save Robin from the darkness when even I thought he had gone over the edge and would never return.”

Djaq nodded before a wary look appeared on her face, “Does this have to do with something like Harold?”

“You mean that al-whatever-turned assassin?” at her nod he shrugged, “something like that.”

“He was captured and tortured…wasn’t he?” Djaq looked at him with a curious gaze, almost sympathetic, yet compassionate at the same time.

“My Master and I met Altaїr about a year before the King sent us home.  He helped us on some of the battles that we fought and Robin would repay the favor by helping him on some of his missions-“

“Assassinations you mean…”

“Yeah,” Much nodded, “plus he was also searching for the Pieces of Eden after telling us what had happened to the Assassins headquarters at Masyaf when their former leader got too power hungry.  I don’t know the full details, but in one of those missions, Robin was captured and brutally tortured.  Naturally Altaїr and I went to rescue him…but we found him…we…”

He found that he couldn’t describe what he had seen the day that they had found Robin.  His mouth had gone dry and he swallowed, finding it very painful to do on a dry throat.  There were no words that did justice that he could say to Djaq to tell her what had happened that day…  It was horrific…

“And you fear that when Altaїr and Allan come out, they will bring Robin out in the same condition as you had found him before?” she asked and he nodded, looking miserable.

“Have faith Much,” she reached out and gripped his shoulder firmly; “this is not the Holy Lands.  Robin will persevere…”

“I know…” Much sighed forlornly before shaking his head, “I know…”

“Much, Djaq!” Allan’s voice suddenly called out from the back entrance to the kitchens and Much perked up before scrambling off the table he had been using as a chair and hurried towards the back.

“Allan!” Djaq called out quietly as they saw him standing, looking nervously around, one had clutching the hilt of his sword.

“He’s in real bad shape…” the ex-thief looked torn and guilty.

“How bad-“

Much felt the blood drain out of his face as he saw Altaїr at least half carrying Robin’s unconscious form into the kitchens and his hand shot out to the edge of the table to steady himself lest he fall to the ground.

He heard Djaq mumble something in Arabic under her breath before Altaїr looked at her with sharp eyes and snapped at her, making her stare at him for a few seconds, an indescribable expression on her face before the assassin turned his gaze on him.  “Much, the cart.  We do not have time.”

“Is he…”

“Your Master will be fine.  He needs a clean bed and medicine to recover,” Altaїr replied sharply and Much took the hint before scrambling to the adjoining room where a horse and cart were already bridled up and dragged the horse to the back entrance of the kitchens.  He tried hard not to think about what he had seen…his Master, battered, bruised, and unmoving.  Almost like the day that they had rescued him from his prison in Jerusalem…

He couldn’t quite keep the shudder from wracking his body and had to turn his head away as Altaїr brought Robin out and placed him unceremoniously on to the cart before Djaq climbed in after, and Allan draped a blanket over the two before filling the top layer with some hay.

“Much,” Altaїr deep voice startled him and he glanced up and over his shoulder to see the assassin looking at him.  “He will be fine.  I promise.”

He knew that he looked unconvinced, but nodded bravely, praying to God that he was merciful and spared Robin the extent of his injuries.  He climbed up onto the seat of the cart, Allan joining him and glanced down at the assassin who nodded and he slapped the horse’s reigns.

The exit plan called for Altaїr to walk along side them, though blended with the night with his skills, and then once they were outside the walls of Nottingham, he would then join them on the cart and they would immediately head to Knighton Hall.   The original plan had called for them to escape back into the woods, but since Robin was injured now, he needed medical care and supplies that they sorely lacked in the woods.  It was very risky since it placed Marian and her father in danger, but asking anyone else in the villages including Locksley would attract too much attention.  Plus, the less the villagers knew about Altaїr, the better.

He just hoped that they were too late…and that Robin hadn’t lost himself to the darkness once more.

                                    *                      *                      *

**Author’s Notes:**

            I was going not post this part until as a complete chapter 3 was up, but I realized that I was writing a lot and still had a long way to go before everything ended so I’ve decided to chop up Part 3 into two and post it as Part 3 and 4.  Also, the part between Vaysey and Le Celle will be revealed in due time (regarding why the Frenchman was killed and what really happened…heh.)  ^_^  Enjoy this one!  Btw, my apologies for not posting in like 5 months.  I have no excuses other than laziness, plot stalling, and muses not cooperating.  Part 4 should be posted up very soon – within a week I think.


	4. Part 4: Crusader

Robin Hood: The Assassin’s Gift

By: Shadow Chaser

 

**Author’s Notes:**

Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me.  This story is written for fandom and not for profit.  This story takes place roughly at the end of July, early August and crosses over with _Assassin’s Creed_.  I have two companion stories to this one, _Silence_ , a one-shot, and _Solace of Silence_ , which is in the process of being written and takes place one year prior to Robin’s return from the Holy Lands.

 

**_Author’s Warning:_ **

**This part may be considered a strong PG-13/R rating due to the graphical nature of the impending fight.  You have been warned for those who are squeamish about blood and heads flying.**

 

**Story:**

_Part 4 - Crusader_

 

**KNIGHTON HALL**

 

Marian peered out into the darkness of the night, hoping for any sign of Robin’s gang.  She had already knocked out the Sheriff’s spies in the village and using the potion Djaq gave her before she had set out to do her part in the mission, had made sure the spies would not be waking up any time soon.

She could still feel her father’s disapproving glare at her insistence on using their home as a place where the outlaws could recuperate and tend to any injuries they may have sustained in their plan to rescue Robin from Nottingham.  She just hoped Robin was all right.  She almost never showed it, but every time he was injured, whether for her sake or for others, it killed her on the inside.

She didn’t want him to sacrifice himself for his cause or for others, but he seemed so intent on playing the martyr for every thing he did that she wondered if he felt a guilt of sorts that was influenced with his time in the Holy Lands.  Even she knew that Robin had changed during the five years he was away.

He was not the same young man that she had refused to marry when she was younger.  He had matured, and shown different facets of himself before he had left for glory and war and the person that had returned was a mere shadow.  But he had regained a part of him when they had rekindled their relationship and especially in light of the more recent events, she had felt their bond deepen.

She didn’t care that she was defying her father in a large way.  She was sick and tired of having people look after her and unable to do anything except dress up as the Nightwatchman and do her good deeds in the cover of night.  She knew the risks she ran when she told Altaїr and Robin’s gang that they were able to use her home as a stopping point and ran the risk of Guy finding out what she was doing, but a part of her didn’t care anymore.

The letters from her suitors and the amorous feelings and proposal Sir Guy had asked her when she was at the castle had left her with a slightly bitter taste in her mouth.  It wasn’t that she didn’t love Sir Guy…she knew that she was only kidding herself if she didn’t feel attracted to the darkly handsome man, but it was the aggressiveness he had shown after she had walked away from him at the altar.  She suspected that his feelings had been rekindled after James of Atherstone had come by and royally screwed things up, but she was also a little annoyed at how he was pandering after her like a lost boy.

She finally spotted a few horses and a horse drawn cart coming down the path from the main road in the inky darkness of the night.  It didn’t look like there weren’t any of the Sheriff’s men following them, carrying torches, but she couldn’t be too sure and notched an arrow onto the bow she had been holding, ready to shoot some warning shots if anyone was pursuing them.

It looked like they were in the clear and Marian released the arrow from her bow before hurrying forward.  She knew that they would only come to Knighton Hall if Robin was injured and she wanted to know the extent of his injuries.  “How is he?” she asked Altaїr as he swung down from the head of the cart, Djaq following him after brushing some rancid hay off of herself.

“I will need fresh water and bandages.  Do you still have some of that medicinal balm I gave you for the tournament?” Djaq looked at her and she nodded.

“Yes, I also have the herbal medicine you made for me when I was sick,” she blinked as the rest of the gang quickly dismounted their horses and brushed off the rancid hay from the rest of the cart.

“Please go get them.  Is there a room prepared?” the Saracen woman asked, peeling back the blanket that had been covering Robin.  Through the dim light, Marian could barely see his face, but noticed that his eyes were definitely closed.

“Yes, the room adjoining to my father’s,” she replied trying to step forward before Altaїr stepped in her way and shielded her view.

“Lady Marian, please do as Djaq says,” the black-clad assassin said in a firm tone before steering her towards her house.

Marian gave him the barest of glares before hurrying into the house, passing by her father who had gotten up and was headed to the door to assist the others in bringing Robin in.  She ran to the pantry where the herbal liquid concoction Djaq had made for her when she was recovering from her illness and grabbed that before hurrying upstairs to her room to find the balm that Djaq had made for her to apply to Robin when he was injured by Allan during the tournament.

As she searched for the balm, she could hear the others coming up the stairs and past her room, probably putting Robin on the bed she had prepared hours ago.  She finally found the balm and hurried towards the guest room, blinking in surprise as she saw Djaq usher Little John, Allan, and Will outside the door before nodding her thanks and grabbing the items out of her hands.  Just before she shut the door on her face, Marian caught a glimpse of Robin’s pale and bloodied face and sucked in a quick gasp of horror.

“Trust me, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Allan noticed her expression and reached out to squeeze her shoulder in reassurance, but somehow she knew that what he said was an empty lie.

“Marian,” her father’s concerned voice made her turn slightly to see him holding a basin of water and some fresh strips of cloth along with towels in his hands.

She took them and knocked tentatively on the door.

A few seconds later it cracked open and Much peered out.  Marian noticed that Robin’s former manservant looked like he had been crying and she felt tears spring to her eyes at the sight of him before he noticed the towels and basin of water in her hands.  “Thank you,” he said a bit hoarsely, taking them and was about to shut the door once more when she found her voice again.

“Much…please, can I see him?” she asked.

“I…” he looked torn for a second before nodding, “all right…just…it’s…it’s not…pretty.”

He opened the door a bit wider for her to slip through and she stepped in before it closed behind her, plunging the room into dim dancing shadows, majority of them concentrated around Robin’s body.

“What is she doing here?” Altaїr sounded angry from his position, the candelabra he was holding to help Djaq see better making his black eyes shine like dark stones.

“If you think you can prevent me from seeing Robin, then you are sorely mistaken,” Marian narrowed her eyes at the assassin.  While she respected him for trying to mediate peace in the Holy Lands, he was still an enigma to him and on top of that, an assassin and thus, did not trust him as easily as Much or the others had.

The assassin leveled her with a dark look for a few seconds before gesturing for her to come in with a curt nod before adjusting the light for Djaq and placing his fingers on part of gauze by her order.  She stepped in tentatively and closed the door behind her, much to the slight vocal protest of Will before he was quieted by Little John.

She jumped a little when a groan emerged from Robin’s lips before he attempted to shift unconsciously on the bed.  “Much!” Djaq called out before the former manservant brushed past her and tried to keep Robin steady on the bed but he suddenly bucked, back arching and Marian got a good look at the bruises covering his half-naked body, traces of red lines, thin ones and a few thick ones that were still bleeding.  There looked like some purplish bruising on his shoulder and rib cage area, but it wasn’t as bad as she had originally thought.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, coming over and tentatively putting a hand on his bare shoulder, but he suddenly cried out, trying to shy away from her touch before falling back onto the bed, eyes still closed.

“I don’t know…most of it is superficial, and he has some burns from what looks like a hot poker, but…I don’t know,” Djaq was struggling to wrap the gauze and Marian looked up at Altaїr who had a look of concern across his face.

“It’s…” Much huffed for a second as Robin bucked again against them, trying to throw them off, “just like that time… Altaїr…remember?”

She immediately saw something flash in his eyes before he placed the candelabra on one of the bed posts and used his free hand to touch Robin’s lips before sniffing his fingers.  He muttered something that she couldn’t hear and looked at him, puzzled.

“What,” she asked.

“He’s been poisoned,” the assassin replied.

“What type?  I may have the antidote,” Djaq looked up.

“This is not a poison you can combat so easily, Little One,” he replied before suddenly looked beyond them and out the window, “are you expecting anyone at this hour, Lady Marian?”

“No…” Marian looked out the window in Robin’s room and frowned, seeing a series of torches coming down the path to Knighton Hall.  “Were you followed?”

“We made every precaution…  The Sheriff knows we’ve escaped into the woods,” Much shrugged, looking helpless, “I knew it!  I knew it, I knew it!”

“Much, shut up,” Djaq hissed before glancing at the assassin, “what can we do?  I think I’ve stabilized him enough to move him, but he’s been reacting to every single pressure we’ve put upon him.”

“It is a poison that will slowly drive his mind insane.  I have seen it upon my own people and we have used it to interrogate traitors to our creed.  Every single touch is agony to his body and this is what drives a person to the edge and madness,” Altaїr said curtly, “we move him now, we will risk losing his soul to the madness beyond man.”

“I’m sorry to intrude, and I don’t mean to be funny, but can’t you use that what’s-it thingy, that Piece or whatever on Robin and make him think that he’s fine?”

Marian and the others looked between Allan and Altaїr utterly confused and she noticed that his eyes were hardening and his expression a bit stiffer than normal.  “I will never use the Piece of Eden.”

“I mean come on, why not, mate?  Don’t have a strong will or something-“

“Allan…” Will placed a hand on the ex-thief’s shoulder and Marian noticed that the assassin’s expression was getting colder and colder by the second.

“What?  I’m just making a point here,” Allan got defensive, “if he won’t do it, then let me.  I’ll help Robin out.”

“No,” Altaїr said sharply, “the Piece is too dangerous for you.  Any of you.”

“Why?” Marian cut in, wondering what had gotten him so testy all of the sudden.

“It’s…” the assassin stared at her for a second before a pounding knock came from the door to their home and she glanced at her father, an apprehensive expression on her face.

“Marian, Sir Edward, I know you both are in there!” Guy of Gisborne’s voice roared through the door and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Oh no…what do we do?” Much moaned in distress.

“Um…” Marian looked around, wracking her brain for any ideas before she glanced at the knives Altaїr wore along his wide belt.  That was it!  “Altaїr, pretend you’ve taken my father and I hostage to force us to help Robin out.”

“Even though I am very skilled at my job, holding two people hostage is not advisable if Gisborne were to attack,” Altaїr replied evenly.

“He won’t attack, I know it,” she said with more confidence than she felt.  She had scorned Sir Guy a lot of times and wouldn’t put it past Hadiya to poison his mind about her relationship with Robin before she died after what Altaїr had told her and her father of the events that had occurred, but she hoped that the part of Guy that still loved her would be able to see that.

“I’ll go along…” Allan stepped forward, “I’m the best at blending in…”

“Are you sure about this, Marian?” her father asked, looking at her with steady eyes and she nodded before Altaїr stepped forward.

“Escape through the back, we will meet at your camp.”

Everyone nodded before Marian allowed herself and her father to be escorted down the stairs, a jolt of adrenaline flowing through her as she felt the sharp cold blade of one of Altaїr’s knives touching her neck.  Back upstairs, she could hear the other outlaws scrambling to get Robin ready to move again.  She only hoped that Djaq was right in that Robin was stabilized and wouldn’t need too many treatments and only need the healing balm, liquid concoction, and rest to heal.  She also hoped that Altaїr and Djaq were able to find the correct medicine to cure the pain he felt.

“Marian!  I know you are in there with Hood!” Guy pounded on the door once more, “come out now and I may show leniency!”

They walked slowly towards the main door as it pounded once more.

“Don’t make me-“

She opened the door wide and made sure Gisborne got a good look at her and her father as hostages, stopping him mid-rant.  “What is this?” he asked, slightly bewildered.

“Tell your soldiers to stand down and let us pass or else I will not hesitate to hurt your precious Lady Marian,” Altaїr’s voice had completely changed and she shuddered slightly at the coldness in them.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Allan, dressed completely in black from the undergarments of the guard’s uniform he had been wearing earlier and had modified part of the uniform to cover his head and only his eyes were showing.  He too held a small knife to her father’s side, having barely cleared his height.  Her father, meanwhile, looked a bit ill at ease and Marian promised herself that when all of this was over she would make sure her father was all right.  All of the more recent stresses of events that had been happening had to take a toll on his body and mind.

“I don’t believe you,” Gisborne said, and she looked at him, hoping her expression was one mixed with horror and pleading.

“Believe whatever you want,” a slight prick of pain made her hitch in her breath involuntarily and she realized that Altaїr had made a shallow cut on her neck.  Her slightly mortified expression must have shown on her face as Gisborne suddenly reached out with a hand to try to placate the situation.

“Don’t hurt her,” he said.

“Robin Hood is my only concern.  I do not care for innocents or for anyone who gets in the way of my mission,” Altaїr continued, his softly-accented English coming out a lot harsher than Marian thought it would.

“And that is?” Gisborne looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“The Piece of Eden,” the assassin replied, “did Hadiya not tell you?”

“Oh she did,” Gisborne’s eyes flashed a bit dangerously, “and here I thought you were going to protect it.”

“Hadiya is a rogue of my clan.  I was sent to hunt her down,” Altaїr said, shifting a bit, but the knife was still steady against her neck.

“Because she was a Templar?”

“Because she abused her powers as a Templar,” he shot back.

“So what does Hood have to do with this?”

“All Pieces belong to Templars…Hood happens to have a Piece of Eden,” the terminology coming from the two was starting to confuse Marian, but from what she could gather, this was definitely proof that Gisborne was allied with someone more powerful and foreign and potential had been to the Holy Lands like Robin had said.  She had to admit that there was still a part of her that doubt the veracity of Robin’s story of Gisborne going to the Holy Lands to assassinate King Richard, but this…this was starting to clear up some of those doubts.

“And so-“

“Let us go…” there was an unspoken exchange and Marian glanced upwards to see a steady expression on Altaїr’s face.  Now she was really confused.  Was Altaїr secretly working for Gisborne and only deceived Robin’s gang to get this Piece of Eden or whatever it was that he did not want the others touching it?  She wanted to believe the assassin was an ally of the gang, but yet…there was that niggling doubt there…

Apparently Gisborne had come to a satisfied conclusion before he looked at them shrewdly and slowly backed away, gesturing for some of the Sheriff’s elite guards to back away too.

“Please close the door, Lady Marian,” Altaїr instructed her and she did as she was told.  As soon as the door slid shut and was locked, the cold knife was lifted from her neck and she rubbed it, surprised to find that her fingers weren’t covered in blood from the cut she most certainly felt.

“An illusion,” the assassin answered to her questioning gaze before nodding to Allan, “tell the others not to move Robin.”

“What?  But I thought-“

“Just do it.  And please bring them downstairs,” Altaїr said before Allan shrugged and went upstairs to relay his request.

A few minutes later the others came back downstairs, Djaq with them and she nodded at her, “I think he’s sleeping.  He’s not moving around as much before and I’ve bandaged up what I could…”

“Well?” Little John asked, gripping his staff tightly.

“Are you really working with Gisborne?” her father suddenly spoke up.

“Yeah?  What’s with that?” Allan piped up too.

“Guy of Gisborne may have withdrawn, but he did not come with just the Sheriff’s elite guards.  I saw at least two of Hadiya’s assassin’s outside in the shadows, ready to ambush us the minute we stepped out of the house,” Altaїr gave them all a look and Marian quickly peered out one of the windows but couldn’t see anything in the inky darkness.

Suddenly an arrow brushed past her cheek and embedded itself against one of her house’s support beams, startling her.  She gasped in surprise before ducking to the ground as the others scrambled for their weapons.  “Father!” she called out rushing towards him as Allan pushed him towards the ground for his own protection.

She grabbed her sword that she had hidden underneath the stairs and drew it half way out when Little John’s large hand covered her own and she stared up at him, wondering what he was doing.  “Stay out of the way, Marian,” he said gruffly, “Robin would not want you hurt.”

“I can fight,” Marian narrowed her eyes, angry.

“Yeah, but if Gisborne sees you fighting, then we’re doomed, right?” Allan peered at them from his position by the window, his bow drawn and an arrow notched.

“Marian!” Djaq called her over and she hurried over before a small object was pressed into her hands.  “Please, I need you to make sure Robin’s wounds are medicated properly.  I didn’t get time to spread it over most of his wounds, only the most grievous ones I could find.”

She knew that Djaq was saving her the chance to rush head first out into the battle and instead was giving her a task and while a part of her didn’t want to be overprotected in such a way she knew that she couldn’t blow her own cover, especially with Guy probably still lurking somewhere outside.  She reluctantly nodded before making sure her father was safe before hurrying upstairs, the sounds of the other outlaws charging into battle behind her.

It was up to them now…

                                    *                      *                      *

Altaїr drew his long sword, a slightly longer curved blade than what the Saracen soldiers back in the Holy Lands used.  The inky darkness of the night made it very hard for them to see Hadiya’s assassins, their black clothes blending seamlessly into the night, but at least there was an almost full moon that kept inching in and out of the clouds, evening the odds of them surviving the ambush.  However, that wasn’t Altaїr’s main concern.  He had his own advantage, a sixth sense of sorts that others had nicknamed Eagle Vision.  It enabled him to clearly make out the distinct auras of those who were his allies, those who were his enemies, and those he had sent to assassinate.

Immersing himself in his ability for a split second before he moved, he saw little patches of red auras outside Lady Marian’s home, some hiding near the barn house, some in the haystacks…others around the houses of the villagers from Knighton Hall.  All were converging on them.  He suspected a few of them may be in the back towards the kitchens.

The distinct aura of yellow, that which in his mind he had dubbed Guy of Gisborne to be an anomaly and thus couldn’t assassinate for the fear of killing an unknown quantity, was watching from the distance…  He didn’t know if Gisborne was going to attack, but so far seemed content in letting Hadiya’s assassin’s do all the work.  Perhaps he was hoping that they would be able to clean up Hadiya’s mess here in Nottingham?

Altaїr snapped himself out of his Eagle Vision, all that had happened in a split second, and turned to Djaq and Will, the latter of the two holding a bow, “There may be an attempt to sneak in from the kitchens.  Watch that entryway.  We will handle the front.”

Will nodded sharply before hurrying to the back, quickly followed by Djaq.  He had to admit.  Originally he had thought Djaq was too demure and meek to be even remotely related to her brother, but now that he had seen her spirit and enthusiasm, he could see hints of her brother and was glad that he had a chance to save him from Majd Addin’s execution.

“Allan, there are two assassins in the trees in front of the house.  Shoot towards the middle of each and you will at least injure or startle them from falling out,” he said and glanced at Little John before the ex-thief could say anything.  “Defend the door.”

“Wha…you’re not going to take on all of them are you?!” Allan burst out at him as a couple of more arrows whizzed by their heads.

“I have the advantage,” he replied shortly and ran outside the door, the auras still visible to his normal vision and immediately stabbed a black clothed assassin in the chest, making his scream fill the air.

He spun and saw another red-aura assassin running towards him, screaming curses to his name and the name of his father before he side-stepped, swiped downwards with his blade and hacked into the man’s leg.  Turning around he stabbed the assassin in the back before drawing his blade out in a messy cut from the completely mutilated shoulder of the dead man and blocked a blow that was aiming to bisect him from his right shoulder across to his left hip.

The force of the blow made him grit his teeth slightly before he lessened his push against the assassin and the black-clad man stumbled slightly.  He didn’t hesitate to ram his sword up the man’s chin and through his head.  Tearing through cartilage and bone of the face, his blade hitched for a moment, having caught itself on the edge of the chin bone and Altaїr threw the dead man towards another assassin who immediately was skewered by an arrow fired from Allan’s bow.

Both bodies tumbled to the side of the house and Altaїr took the moment in fighting to access his Eagle Vision once more, the red-aura having faded a while ago in the midst of his battle.  He saw that the red auras once sitting in the trees now on the ground, the assassins obviously wounded but not dead.  It also looked like they weren’t going to be moving any time soon and he knew that he would be able to question them later.  However, there seemed to be more red-aura assassins coming towards them…and it looked like a couple of them were chasing the blue-aura forms of Will and Djaq, the two probably have smoked them out of sneaking from the kitchens.

That was not good…if Will and Djaq couldn’t see how many assassins there were in the front then they would be slaughtered.  Altaїr knew that even with his skill he couldn’t take down all of them and still protect the rest of the outlaws from any wayward arrows; his Eagle Vision didn’t have the ability to spot arrows in the dark.

“Stay near the house!” he called out to the two of them as they ducked slightly, two arrows embedding themselves in the ground by their feet.  At least with the light coming from the house they would have a slight advantage in spotting any incoming arrows.

Releasing his Eagle Vision, he narrowed his eyes, knowing that they were at a fairly large disadvantage.  He unconsciously flicked off the blood that had been liberally coating his blade and held himself ready for the next wave of assassins.  He knew that he could have taken the Piece Robin had and used it to influence the minds of Hadiya’s assassins, but he had vowed over a year and half ago that he would never, ever, use the Piece of Eden again; not after what he had seen and how it had called to him in the atrium courtyard of Al Mualim’s fortress.

Suddenly a flurry of arrows rained down upon a few of the assassins, piercing them in the heart and eyes and Altaїr looked up towards the direction of the arrows and he grew concerned as he saw Robin, standing on top of the first floor awning a dangerous look lighting his eyes.

“Oh no…” his sharp ears picked up Much’s barely whispered exclamation of fear as he too was staring up at Robin and Altaїr had a distinct feeling that this wasn’t the Robin of Locksley he had known in the Crusades…this was the more dangerous, more feral side of Robin that had had only encountered once, and that was when he, Much, and one of Robin’s lieutenants, Carter, had rescued him from his prison in Jerusalem.

He had a horrible feeling about this…

                                    *                      *                      *

Robin pulled back on the drawstring of his bow, his eyes sharp, picking out every minute detail of the battlefield before him.  He didn’t know why he was in the this particular house, after all, perhaps this was just a test from his captors to make him think that he was back home in England.  But he knew that in order to escape, he had to defeat the Saracen assassins that were surrounding the house.

A part of him noted that he had allies helping him, but they were just poor sobs who were stuck in the prison like he was, dressed up in clothes and given weapons so perhaps they could have some dignified end, but he didn’t care about them.  No…escape was the primary goal.

The girl who looked a little like Marian but older was still lying on the ground in the hallway, recovering from her attempt to stop him.  He had backhanded her roughly to prevent her from interfering.  Girls were always sent to prisoners to ‘soften’ them up and she was no exception.  She however was pleading with him to not to go out to battle because of his wounds, but he had ignored her and when she had tried to interfere, he had set her in her place.

He fired his arrow, piercing the throat of an assassin who went down with a gurgle before hopping down from the awning and drew out his sword.  Charging into the fray, he gave a yell of fury before hacking off the head of one.  Spinning, his arm went wide and he punched another in the stomach before bringing his blade down on the hapless assassin’s shoulder.

Blood spurted out from the man’s grievous wound, but Robin plowed on.  He would not be deterred from his freedom.  He could feel the sharp lancing pain of his wounds, and knew that he had torn at least some stitching and sutures, but he didn’t care.  Gritting his teeth, he held his curved sword at the ready and charged the next assassin he could see in the darkness head on.

He suddenly ducked to avoid an arrow shot at his head and stabbed the man in the gut before ripping the sword out of his waist.  He grabbed the man’s sword from his lifeless hand and stepped to his left to block the blows of two assassins who were bent on trying to kill him.  He pushed off against their blows and stabbed one in the head before half turning and cutting the head off of another.  Before the one with the blade in his face fell to the ground, Robin drew out the blade with a sickly squishing sound and threw it at a fleeing assassin.

The blade struck the black-robed man in the back and he fell to the ground, his death cry becoming a hissing rattle.  Somehow, he knew that there was an arrow on the ground and he picked it up by its feathers and jabbed another assassin behind him who was trying to creep up and ambush him.

He quickly grabbed the knives from the man’s belt and threw three at an angle, two of them embedding themselves in the chest of yet another black-robed assassin and the remaining one having been caught by what looked like the group’s leader.

Robin grinned slightly, hefting his blade as he prepared himself to confront the final obstacle in front of him before his freedom was secure.  Flicking the blood off of his curved Saracen blade, he flourished it a bit; relishing the chance to fight what looked like could be a strong opponent.  The assassin leader gave him a glowering look before he twirled his blade back and forth on his side, but he knew not to be distracted by such fancy displays.

“ _Come and meet your maker, assassin_ ,” he growled at the man.

He could hear the cries of the other prisoners behind him as they fought the remaining assassins, but even then he could feel that their victory was assured as the numbers had gone down drastically.  His smile became a bit more feral and ruthless as he saw just a hint of a fear flicker within the leader’s eyes.

The assassin leader suddenly charged at him and Robin parried before circle swiping the blade away and punched the man in the face.  The leader staggered back a few steps and he advanced forward, bringing his blade up to bisect him from left shoulder to right hip.  His blade met the leader’s with a clang as the man tried to stop him from delivering the killing blow, but Robin forced his muscles to push downwards, feeling a flare of pain erupt all over his body, but he didn’t care and slowly the leader’s blade bit into his own skin and the leader hissed in pain.

Suddenly Robin cried out in pain as the leader punched him to the gut.  It wasn’t a solid punch, but dear Lord it _hurt_.  He staggered under the blow, trying to breathe through his nostrils before barely blocking a blow to his head.  His teeth rattled in the bone-crunching effort it took to keep his own blade aloft and instead of skewering onto his own head.

He went down on one knee and it sent new ripples of pain throughout his body, making him grunt slightly and draw in a haggard breath, forcing himself not to close his eyes against his opponent.  As a result his eyes started to water from the effort and from the pain.  With a start he realized that he had not been even feeling pain because he had all but avoided the blows aimed at him or had killed those who were about to attack him first.

“Not so tough are we?” the assassin leader sneered down at him and Robin glared up at the black cloth covered face of the Saracen.

Robin cursed him back in Arabic.

Just as the Saracen assassin opened his mouth to say or even to spit in his face, blood suddenly spurted out of the man’s neck before he fell to the ground and Robin leapt up to avoid the falling dead body.  He glanced beyond the man to see yet another black-garbed assassin standing over the man; the remnants of what looked liked a hidden blade on his left handed bracer retreating back into its sheath.

The man looked somehow…familiar…but he kept his guard up.  He didn’t trust anything that was dressed in black right now.  “ _Who are you?_ ” he asked staring at the black garbed assassin that had helped him.

“It is me, Altaїr Ibn la-Ahad from Masyaf,” the black garbed assassin replied and Robin narrowed his eyes slightly, taking in the armament the man wore.  There were only a couple of knives left in their sheaths along his wide belt…and a long curved Saracen sword hung by his side.  His clothing was most definitely sleeker and slimmer than the clothing the other assassins wore and his face was exposed, even though the hood of his clothes hid his eyes.

But Robin had a feeling…a sense of something that was wrong…something not quite right.

It was then that he realized the illusion he had thought that was the countryside of England was still up.  He looked around, eyes wild as he tried to figure out a way from this horrible, horrible illusion.

“Robin, my friend-“

“ _Don’t touch me_ ,” he snarled at Altaїr, or at least the person who claimed to be Altaїr, “ _the Altaїr I know is dressed in the clothes similar to a scholar, not some black-clad Saracen assassin!  All of this is a lie!_ ”

He punched Altaїr in the face before raising his blade towards the assassin, wondering if he killed this last black-clothed man, maybe, just maybe, the illusion will end then.

“Master no!” Much’s voice cut through his consciousness just as Altaїr tackled him at the waist, making him cry out in pain and he dropped his sword as he landed on the ground.  He saw something pebble-sized tumble out of the assassin’s clothes and land a bit away from them, but his vision was covered up once more by a straight punch to his face.

Robin reeled from the blow before heaving upwards and trying to throw the one who claimed to be Altaїr off of him.  He half succeeded and kicked the man in the shins.  But his feet got tangled up and he felt something come loose in one of his boots.  He ignored it and instead, brought up an arm to block another blow before twisting his body around and flipped head over heels and stood up, looking at the Altaїr-look alike warily.  He could see the other prisoners, all dressed in the garbs of woodsmen…their faces vaguely familiar to some small part of him that he quickly squashed down, coming slowly towards them, weapons drawn, and not quite pointed at him.

“Wake up, Robin!” the Altaїr look-alike shouted at him and he stared at the man shuffling back slightly.  His foot encountered something wooden and he glanced down for a split second before realizing it was his own bow that he had dropped before charging at the assassins moments ago.  The sky was definitely getting a bit lighter as dawn approached and he knew he had to end this illusion and make his escape from the prison he was stuck in.

Robin kicked up his bow and a few arrows with his leg, his eyes never leaving the face of the black-clothed assassin and strung it quickly before pointing it straight at the heart of the assassin.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the others stop in their tracks, their expressions a mix of fear and surprise.  Good, maybe that would teach them to try to ambush or charge him as one unit.  “ _I kill you_ ,” he said, “ _and_ _I get to leave here, don’t I?_ ”

The Altaїr look-alike slowly crouched down and picked up something from the ground that Robin couldn’t see before holding his hands limply to his side.  “I do not want it to come to this, my friend.”

Robin tilted his head in warning, drawing a bit further back on the bowstring.  He wondered why a part of him was hesitating to shoot the man.  After all…it was just an illusion, wasn’t it?  A long time ago he would have just shot anyone who got in his way or were attacking him…

“Robin!  Please!  Stop!” Much’s plaintive tone startled him slightly and he saw his faithful manservant running towards them before stopping in front of the black-clothed assassin, hands spread wide, shielding part of him.  “This _is_ Altaїr!  Please!  Turn back!”

“ _Get out of the way Much_ ,” he growled at his manservant, wondering why he was here, interfering with his shot.  “I won’t hesitate to shoot through you to get to him.”

“Robin…surely you wouldn’t,” he saw the fear light up in Much’s eyes before the person he was least expecting suddenly put herself directly in front of his bow.

It was then that he saw his grip on his bow and the arrow notched was shaking a little.  Not quite visible, but visible enough so that the two of them saw how much he was struggling.  Her cheek was bruised from where he had struck her to get her out of his way to fight, but as he stared up close to her face, a part of him realized that it was Marian…no look-alike no doppelganger, no one dressed up like her.  It was really…Marian.

“ _Let go of your bow…and sleep…dream the dream of peace…_ ” a soft, but deep voice suddenly whispered in his ear and Robin tried to resist it…if only for a few seconds before he felt his eyes close of their own accord, his mind still resisting the command, his muscles relax as they lost their grip on his bow and arrow before he collapsed to the ground.  There was a brief moment where he tried to whisper her name before the merciful blackness claimed him…

“Marian…”

                                    *                      *                      *

Marian barely had time to catch Robin before he collapsed almost boneless to the ground, his body succumbing to Altaїr’s vocal command.  She was surprised when he suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere appeared by her love’s side and whispered the command into his ear to stop his rampage.  Earlier she had been horrified, watching with unblinking eyes as Robin literally cut down the assassins that had been swarming her house.  It was almost fascinatingly brutal and the grace that Robin showed with his swordplay terrified her.

He was like another person, lost to everyone, but there was just that hint, just a slight spark of humanity left that prevented him from shooting her without hesitation when she boldly stepped in front of his arrow, hoping to reach out to him.  She had no clue what he was babbling about when he was talking with Altaїr, but had a sneaking feeling that this was the type of imprisonment and torture he had been through when he had tried to prevent her from seeing James of Atherstone beat him up a few months ago.

Was this the series of events that turned him in the Holy Lands, into a killing monster?  Was this the main reason why he didn’t want to kill when he had returned from that accursed place?

She brushed a strand of hair from his peaceful features, eliciting a slight moan of pain from his lips, but he didn’t wake up.  “How long will he sleep?” she whispered, feeling tears prick the corner of her eyes.  Her dear, heroic Robin…her savior and the love of her life…

“ _For a while_ ,” Altaїr’s voice sounded a bit distorted and she glanced up to see that his eyes were a shining yellow color and something in his right hand glowed fiercely before it slowly faded away just as the glow in his eyes also faded away.

Suddenly the assassin dropped to the ground next to them, his breath coming in heavily and she blinked in alarm.  “Are you all right?” she reached out a hand and he waved her away.

“I will be fine, Lady Marian,” the assassin replied as the first peeks of sun started to come up, “do not concern yourself with me.”

Just then the others came running up to them and she glanced up to see Much, crouch down immediately by Robin’s side, a worry look on his face as he gripped on of his hands and squeezed it gently.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry you had to go through that again,” he whispered brokenly to his unconscious best friend and former master.

“We’ll have to treat him at the camp…we can’t stay here, not after the Sheriff’s lackey has seen us…” Altaїr’s calm voice made her turn her head to stare up at him.

“I don’t care about Guy seeing you guys-“

“I don’t mean to be funny, but if Gisborne suspects, then you’ll be branded an outlaw like the lot of us,” Allan cut her off and she fell silent, seething.  It was unfair, after all, how come Robin couldn’t have the same comforts she had when she was recovering from the plague?  How come he had to be branded an outlaw by a corrupt and detestable man who ruled Nottinghamshire with an iron fist?  She knew Allan spoke the truth and she hated it.

“Then I’ll come visit-“

“I do not think that would be a good idea, Marian,” Djaq interrupted her shaking her head as both Little John and Will had finished hastily constructing a makeshift stretcher to carry Robin in.  “Hadiya may have poisoned Gisborne and the Sheriff’s mind about your association with us.  We do not know what she said or what she got out of Robin when he was tortured.  Robin wouldn’t want you placing yourself in danger because of him.”

Marian stared at the Saracen woman for a second before turning to Altaїr and huffed a sigh, feeling a bit defeated.  More than once she wished things could be back to normal, before Robin left for the Holy Lands, before Vaysey had ousted her father as Sheriff.  “At least tell me what did you do to calm Robin down?”

She was still mildly surprised that she wasn’t as horrified as she thought she would have been after Robin had knocked her to the ground and stalked out to fight.  A part of her had always suspected that her love had a hard time dealing with what happened in the Holy Lands and somehow manifested itself through actions such as this.  Granted she had only seen glimpses of his darker side and knew that she should have been more sickened at the carnage that lay in the front of her father’s house, but she felt oddly calm.

The assassin looked at her shrewdly for a few seconds before opening his right hand.

“Hey isn’t that-“

“This is what my clan has been protecting.  One of the Pieces of Eden.  It is a source of otherworldly mystical power that grants a user special…abilities.  My clan was corrupted by our leader who abused one of the Pieces for his own use, to dominate the minds of those in the Holy Lands and create an unstoppable force.  We’ve eliminated him,” Altaїr said in a quiet voice, “the Templars, not special forces of King Richard and his allies, are actively seeking out other Pieces of Eden to use and control the war in the Holy Land and perhaps spread it throughout the known world.  I was sent to England by the leader of our clan to stop one of them from finding the Piece, which I had given to Robin after he helped us in one of our missions.”

“But couldn’t Robin just use the Piece to mind control the Sheriff or something like that?” Allan spoke up and Marian glanced at him, puzzled.

“Robin never wanted to use the Piece.  He had insisted that he did not carry it, but my clan knew that keeping a Piece in the Holy Lands would eventually spell doom.  That is why any Piece we have found so far is given to our allies abroad.”

“That is a lot of power to place on one person…” Marian murmured, staring at the small pebble-sized thing that looked just like a rock, except with intricate designs on it.

“I thought you said you would never use it,” Much had finished helping Little John put Robin in the makeshift stretcher.

The assassin shrugged a bit, “I am only fortunate that I did not succumb to its siren call this time around.”

To Marian, that sounded like the voice of experience and she wondered what had happened between Much, Altaїr, and Robin in the Holy Lands.  She had a feeling that she would probably never know, especially in light of today’s events.  She wondered when Robin woke up; would he remember what he did today?  Even though he tried so hard to hide it at times, she had seen him occasionally stare off in the distance, as if weighed down by things terrible on his mind.  Much occasionally mentioned that Robin sometimes fell into a depressive funk and always refused to talk to him about their time in the Holy Lands.

“We should be going before Gisborne decides to come back with more soldiers,” Djaq said as the sun started to peek over the trees, the birds already well into their morning chirping.  Little John and Will each grabbed an end of the makeshift stretcher and hefted it up gently before starting to walk away, Much and Allan following them, bows hanging loosely by their sides just in case they were to encounter anyone else on their trip back to their camp.

“Djaq!” Marian suddenly remembered that she still had the balm and liquid concoction she had taken from her before they went out to fight and hastily gave it to the Saracen woman.  “Please…let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

Djaq smiled at her and nodded, “I will.  Do not worry, Marian, Robin will get better.”

She smiled faintly watching her jog a bit to catch up to the others.

“Lady Marian?” Altaїr’s deep and soft voice made her jump slightly and she turned to her left to see the assassin bowing to her, “we will not meet again, but I do thank you for your efforts and your support.  Robin is a very lucky man to have you.”

“Thank you,” she didn’t know if she should stretch out her hand for him to take and to kiss since he may not know the custom, but was pleasantly surprised when he took her hand and kissed it gently before releasing it and sketched another short bow.  He then turned and hurried after the others, disappearing into the brush and woods with a blink of an eye.

                                    *                      *                      *

**OUTLAWS’ CAMP,** **SHERWOOD FOREST**

**A few days later…**

 

The first thing on Robin’s conscious mind was that a particularly loudly chirping bird was going to be tonight’s dinner if he had his way.  The second thing was that he could _feel_ the darkness within him; something that troubled him greatly.  Didn’t he bury all of that when he left the Holy Land?  He cracked open his eyes, his lids feeling like sandpaper scratching over a rough surface and found himself staring up at the leafy green woods of Sherwood, the mildly hot air of summer swirling around him.

He blinked a few more times before rolling over to his left and picked himself up.  That was when the first bout of dizziness struck him and he immediately flung his hands to the mossy ground to try to support himself before closing his eyes to let the vertigo and dizziness pass.  As soon as he was sure the world had stop spinning he opened his eyes again and realized he was very hungry.  He also noticed that he was covered in bandages and cloth wraps, particularly a swath of them around his chest and middle, his clothes loose and untied, barely covering up the bandages.

Robin suddenly sensed something flying at him and he reached up and caught an apple that had been thrown at him.  Turning slightly to see who threw the apple, his eyes widened in surprise and his jaw dropped at the sight of the last person he would have expected to visit England, much less be in his own camp.

“Altaїr,” he blinked in shock, “is that really you?”

The assassin, he noticed, was dressed in a black version of the attire he was used to seeing him in whites.  A hint of a smile also creased the corner of his lips, “Good to see you well, my friend.”

“When did you get here?  Why did you-“ Robin paused for a minute, noting that the rest of the camp was sleeping and also as he slowly remembered what had transpired since he was last conscious…and a well of horror and hatred for himself filled him.

Altaїr must have seen the expression change on his face as he spoke up in his usual quiet, yet deep voice, “You were not at fault, Robin of Locksley.”

Robin remembered the brutality he had inflicted on the assassins, on his friends, and even upon Marian.  His hands clenched into fists as he remembered the gruesome and horrifying torture Hadiya had put him through; the unleashing of his darker persona, the one that he had swore to keep hidden away forever.  The one that had nearly reared its head when he had fought James of Atherstone and for that split second when he thought Marian had died from the plague.

“I even nearly killed you, friend,” he whispered, staring at the ground, his hunger long gone.  “I used the Piece…when I swore I wouldn’t.  I let that darkness take control of the Piece and use it.”

“But you didn’t let it control you,” Altaїr replied coolly, making him stare at him, “you are one of the rare few who has done so each time you’ve touched the Piece.”

It was also then that he noticed that the Piece he had kept in his boot for so long was missing and stared at the assassin before something small and pebble-sized was tossed his way.  He caught it in his other hand and glanced at it.

“I still don’t want it,” he said tonelessly, “why are you giving it back?”

“Because you are still the only one my clan can count on to keep it safe,” Altaїr replied, “I am not trusted with the Piece nor do I trust myself with the Piece.”

Robin looked at his friend curiously before the assassin reluctantly explained what he meant, “Hadiya was carrying a Piece on her.  It seems she used it to try to augment her Templar-given abilities to try to find the Piece on you to force you to give her the location.  When she was eliminated I took it from her, but when battling you, the Piece was lost.  I have gone back and searched the area, but it is missing now, most likely in the hands of the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

“That’s bad news,” he said grimly, reluctantly putting his own Piece back into his boot and taking a tentative bite out of the apple he was given.  “The Sheriff won’t hesitate to use it.”

“But those with a strong will and mind will see right through his attempt.  There was another Templar I encountered in the castle and I think they will scheme until your King returns…”

“…And use the opportunity to force him to give the throne to his brother, Prince John.  Why haven’t you assassinated the other Templar or if you’re really sure that the Sheriff has a Piece of Eden-“

Altaїr held up a hand to stop him, “I only said I suspect.  I do not know and my orders were specific.  Hadiya was a far more dangerous target than the French Templar.  To kill anyone not involved in my mission would be violating the assassins’ creed.  But do not fear, Robin, I will return to my clan and ask them for permission to eliminate the French Templar and any other recruits he may have gathered in his time here.”

“Killing the Sheriff would probably bring Prince John’s attention on the shire…and he would send his men to secure the region,” Robin mused mostly to himself, “I think your plan has better merit.  I want to expose Vaysey to the King when he returns, not have a dead body for all my efforts.”

He looked up as a rustle of leaves caught his attention and saw Altaїr getting up.  Robin realized that his friend was leaving and gingerly stood up; feeling a wave of dizziness hit him for a few seconds before opening his eyes once more as the world decided to right itself and not spin like a top.  When he looked in the assassin’s direction again he saw that a full bridled and saddled horse was coming up to him before stopping next to him.

“You’re really going to leave now?” Robin found himself wishing that his friend from the Holy Lands would stay just a little longer, but also knew that Altaїr wouldn’t stay for any other reason after his mission was done.  He realized the assassin had stayed past his mission completion to make sure he was all right and recovering nicely and a crooked smile worked its way up his lips.

“Can you deliver a message for me to the King?” he asked, an idea coming to him.

Altaїr, having mounted his horse, nodded from his seat.  “Name it.”

“Tell him to make peace quickly and come home, Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham are getting dangerous.”

“I will do as you ask, Robin.  _Salaam_ , my friend,” Altaїr raised a hand in farewell while wheeling his horse around.

“ _Salaam_ , peace friend.  I hope we can meet again under better circumstances,” Robin replied as the assassin moved away from the camp.

Altaїr was nearly down the road when Robin stepped forward, “Hey Altaїr!”

He saw the horse pause and the black-clothed assassin turn slightly in his saddle.

“Black doesn’t suit you!  Go back to white!” he shouted, a grin forming on his face.

He saw the minute shake of Altaїr’s head, the only sign of any humor within his friend’s demeanor before the horse continued on its way, back to the Holy Land.  Robin watched him until he disappeared into the green-brown foliage and then glanced around the camp as the others were starting to wake.  He knew he had a lot of explaining to do…but first…

He had to see Marian and apologize.

                                    *                      *                      *

**KNIGHTON HALL**

 

Robin knew that he still wasn’t one-hundred percent when he attempted to climb up to Marian’s window after avoiding all of the Sheriff’s spies in the village.  He had given up climbing and instead had tentatively knocked on the front door, noting to some chagrin that all of the bodies that had been littering the front of the house were gone and the only evidence of any fight was just bits and pieces of hay scattered around the grass and dirt paths to soak up the remnant blood, but even the hay didn’t show any signs of browning from blood.

Surprisingly it was Marian who answered the door and she stared at him for a few seconds before engulfing him in a rather painful, but fierce embrace.  He returned the gesture before she let go of him and hurried him in, closing the door behind her.

“Marian I-“

The resounding slap to his face echoed throughout the silent house save for the braying of a few sheep and goats outside and he blinked in surprise, his hand tentatively touching the sore and stinging bruise her slap left on his cheek.  “Ow…”

“That’s for hitting me,” she crossed her arms and stared at him, a slightly angry expression on her face before she suddenly took his face into her hands and kissed him gently on the lips.  “That’s for worrying me to death.”

“Marian…I…” Robin found himself at loss for words before an incredible amount of shame filled him and he hung his head, “I’m so sorry for what happened.  I’m so sorry I got you and your father involved.  I’m so-“

“Shh,” she pressed a finger gently to his lips to silence him and took his hands, “I’m just glad you’re alive.  What happened…”   He caught her moment’s hesitation and looked away for a few seconds.  “What happened was not within your control.”

“Marian…” Robin stared out of the windows, looking at the lively village and the people hustling about as if nothing had happened.  “You don’t…understand.  That was…me…is me, a part of me that did those things, killed all of those men; nearly killed you…”  He stared at her, his eyes imploring her to understand and was surprised when he found her beautiful blue ones waiting for him to explain himself.  He mentally took a deep breath, wondering if he was ready to tell her what had turned him into such a killing machine.

He wondered if she would accept him afterwards, or become utterly disgusted or even worst, look upon him with pity because he wasn’t strong enough to deal with what had happened and what he had become.

“Well?” she asked gently, prompting him to suddenly release his hands and scrub his face in an effort to try to work up the courage.  He stepped away from her and looked towards the fire, finding the embers glowing like the pulses of a heartbeat and oddly it gave him some measure of comfort.

“Do you remember when I went off on Gisborne because he had the tattoo and I accused him of attempting to kill the King in the Holy Lands?”

“Yes.”

“During that time, when I fought to defend the King, I had recently returned from Jerusalem, having helped the assassins of Altaїr’s clan on a mission.  King Richard had appointed me to be their envoy and they proved a great help in stopping those who wanted to war to continue.  That was also when I learned of the Pieces of Eden.

“The thing that Altaїr said would be able to control weak minded individuals,” Marion confirmed and he nodded before focusing his attention back on the embers.

“When I was in Jerusalem, I saw many things…horrible…things.  Needless to say…I was captured…and imprisoned…”

“Oh Robin…”

“They used a Piece of Eden on me and since…I didn’t know what to expect I…fell into their trap,” his hands curled into fists as he could see flashes of his torture and the dark swirling faces of his captors.  He could feel the growing darkness inside of him and it was an effort to slam it back down into the deepest corners of his mind.  He would never lose control like that ever again.  “But a part of me knew what was going on and I fought against…the control.  One day…”

Robin swallowed hard, his voice cracking, “They let me out to ‘test’ some the effects on other prisoners and instead…I….turned on them.”

“Robin-“

“I slaughtered them…” he whispered, closing his eyes, the faces of his captors, all dead and staring up at him with lifeless eyes flashing before him.  “I killed all of them in cold blood and then…proceeded to kill all of the other prisoners too…”

He stopped, letting silence fill the room save for the crackling of the fire.  He leaned his head against his arm, resting on the mantle of the fireplace, brushing away the tears that were leaking out of the corner of his eyes.  All of those innocents…he had killed them without a second thought.  He had even killed the women and children…  It was only by the timely grace of Altaїr and Much who had come to rescue him that he had regained his sanity and had spent at least two weeks severely depressed over his actions.  He had almost lost faith in the King until Richard himself had come to see him and talk him back to regaining his rank and leadership over the Private Guard.

“Altaїr…and Much…if it wasn’t for them…I…” he opened his eyes and shook his head.  “I don’t know what would have happened…”

He almost jumped up in surprise as Marian put a gentle hand on his shoulder and he automatically looked at her.  What surprised him was not pity in her eyes, not anger nor disgust, but a sense of understanding.  How could a woman be so strong as to understand him after he had told her all of that; after he had hit her, after he had nearly killed her and still have such understanding eyes?

She looked at him wordlessly before leaning up and giving him a long kiss and holding him close.  He wanted to push her away, wanted to tell her that he was so covered in the blood of others that she didn’t deserve him, but instead, he stood there, unable to do anything.  She finally released him and stared at him square in the eye.

“Thank you, Robin…I know that was hard for you and I can claim that while I pity you, I think I understand why you want to help others so badly now, why you’ll sacrifice yourself for them and why you’ll always fight for what is right and what is wrong.”

“Marian-“

“Shh…” she smiled slightly, “I can also say that I will never understand how you overcame that darkness you said that was inside of you, but I know that you’ll always do your best to prevent it from happening again.”

Robin could feel his flimsy composure slipping and suddenly reached out to embrace her tightly, the tears pouring freely from his eyes.  He was so lucky to deserve her love and her affection.  He never should have left for the Holy Lands…should have stayed home, married her and they would have been happier.  But for now…he would accept her unconditional love that she gave.

“It’s okay Robin…you can cry…”

                                    *                      *                      *

 

**NOTTINGHAM** **CASTLE**

 

Vaysey held up the Piece of Eden that he took from Le Celle turning it slowly in his hands, examining its intricate carvings.  He had to admit, it was quite a beautiful piece even though it was made out of stone, or at least he thought it was stone.  The way the thing glowed made him think witchcraft was at work and he had kept it hidden lest some hapless servant girl or guard stumble in and find him with some kind of unholy glowing object and scream their poor little heads off.

“Hmm,” he murmured quietly before glancing up at Gisborne who was staring out one of the windows into the courtyard.  He seemed intent on looking out and Vaysey suspected that little Marian had arrived.  He didn’t know the details of the battle and his lieutenant was very succinct in the report, but did say that he had took back the Piece when it seemed Hood was going crazy and attacking his own people.

Vaysey hoped that Hood had killed his own people and got rid of that pesky assassin that had stolen him from the dungeons, but he didn’t hold too much stock, especially since Marian had a tendency to interfere.  He also wondered if Gisborne knew that he was being manipulated so badly by the tart.  It wasn’t that he didn’t have the heart to tell his dumb as a doorknob lieutenant when it came to matters of the heart, it was that watching Gisborne squirm and occasionally respond to the harlot’s every beck and whim was rather funny.

He knew that sooner or later he would have to order Gisborne to do something about her, but for now…he figured he let the tart string his lieutenant along, just as long as they got what they want.

“Gisborne, how do you work this thing?  I’ve been holding it for hours and it’s not glowing,” he said, startling him from staring out the window.

“I’m not too sure…I wasn’t trained in that aspect when I went to the Holy Lands.  After I had killed the King, I would have been given my own Piece and trained to use it,” Gisborne replied a bit shortly.

“Ah…so you’re failure to kill the king makes you useless when it comes to these, doesn’t it?” Vaysey wasn’t too happy with his answer.  “Wonderful.”  He pocketed the little thing and strolled over to where his lieutenant was.  “I want you to find out and do it soon.”

“Any particular reason?” Gisborne stared at him, brows knitting.

“Let’s just say…with this, we can see to it that the Prince doesn’t make any foolish mistakes if the King was to return and we are not prepared.”

“You think the King’s returning soon?”

“However the Frenchman may have been manipulating me, he did impart some wisdom as to the war going on in the Holy Lands.  It seems our dear King has grown a bit weary of the endless fighting and seems to be leaning towards a cease-fire and peace agreement with Salah al-Din.”

“The Prince’s forces aren’t enough to counter the battle-hardened King’s forces and like you said, Hood has developed a popular following amongst the poor and some of the more influential nobles like Spencer and Buckingham.”

“That’s why you’re not the planner are you,” Vaysey stared at his lieutenant, “we have help.  Our friends across the channel will obey us, that is why you have to find out fast how to work these Pieces!”

“Hood still has his Piece.”

“We’ll let him think that he’s safe for now and deal with him when the time comes.”       

                                                *                      *                      *

 

**OUTLAWS’ CAMP,** **SHERWOOD FOREST**

 

Robin felt a lot better and it seemed that the burden of his past was a lot lighter when he returned a few hours later to the camp.  However, it was to a sight of almost all of the gang gone with only Allan waiting, looking a bit lost.  “Allan?” he stared at the ex-thief who immediately brightened.

“I don’t mean to be funny, but you nearly drove us all spare.  We thought you had disappeared or gone off on another rampage of sorts,” Allan shrugged, coming over to him, “the others are out looking for you.”

“I was visiting Marian,” Robin resisted the urge to shake his head, knowing that he probably should maybe left a note or some indication that he would return in a few hours.

“Yeah, we kind of got that idea when we didn’t see Altaїr around and his horse was gone, but Much insisted we go spread out and search for you just in case,” the outlaw stared at him, “you okay, mate?  You really gave us a scare.”

Robin nodded just as the others came back to the camp from different directions.  All of them perked up as they saw him standing next to Allan and he fought to keep a grin off of his face at seeing their shocked, yet relieved expressions on their faces.

“Master!” Much called out before running up and hugging him fiercely, making his chest ache once more from the pressure, but he gladly accepted the hug and patted his dearest friend on the back a few times.  He knew that Much probably suffer the hardest when he wasn’t himself, having now seen him unleash his darker side when he had told him long ago that it was gone.

Releasing much he gave half-embraces to both Djaq and Will, the latter of the two having a suspicious shine of what looked like tears in his eyes and he smiled gently at them.  “Thank you…especially you Djaq, for helping and healing me.  I’m so sorry…” he looked at the others gravely, “I’m sorry for putting all of you through that.  If I hadn’t brought Hadiya back to the camp-“

“What’s done is done, Robin,” Little John stepped forward gruffly, “we all wanted to help and fell into her trap.”

“Did Altaїr tell you…?” he wondered if his friend had told them about the Pieces and of how they had all fallen to Hadiya’s influence over her Piece.

“Yeah…we’re not too happy about that part,” Allan spoke up as they clustered around him, “I mean, you’re the only one with a Piece since Altaїr returned to the Holy Land with the one he took from Hadiya so I feel kind of safer.”

It was then that Robin realized Altaїr had not told the other outlaws about the lost Piece and the probability that it had ended up in the Sheriff’s hands.  A quick look at his gang’s relieved faces made him decide that he would keep it that way.  After all, his own Piece would probably be able to counteract any influence the Sheriff might wield over the Piece and especially since they all knew how it felt now, the inviting little whispers, the words that sounded _just_ quite right for them to obey…

He also realized what the others might have been thinking and looked at them seriously, “Like Altaїr, I will never, ever use the Piece.  If you’re worried that I’ve manipulated any of you to become a part of my gang, it’s not true-“

“Robin, we know,” Little John cut him off again, “we’re all here of our own free will.”

That statement brought a grin up to his face before he knew the last thing he had to tell them in order to patch things up with them and his grin faded slightly and he released his arms from around Djaq and Will, “I bet you all want to know what happened in the Holy Lands, don’t you?”

They all blinked in shock, looking at him in surprise.  Robin didn’t feel ready to talk about his time in the HolyLands and the events that had lead to his imprisonment in Jerusalem, but he knew that his men deserved an explanation.  He opened his mouth to start his story when an apple was suddenly shoved into it by Much.  Choking slightly he looked at his former manservant in astonishment.

“You keep talking and Djaq, Marian, and Altaїr will have my head if you pass out from lack of food and water,” Much shrugged before heading away from the group and towards the fire.

Robin recognized the gesture his dearest friend was imparting on him and realized that even though he had tried to coax him into talking about their times in the Holy Lands, he had also realized enough that Robin would never be comfortable and thus, saved his former master from going through the horrible events again.

“Yeah, it’s a story for next time, Robin,” Allan slapped him gently on the back before they all headed towards the fire, intent on getting some food.

Robin grinned at them, his spirits lifted just as the cry of a soaring eagle flew overhead Sherwood Forest.

 

~END~

 

**Author’s Q &A:**

 

**Q: What order are the stories supposed to be read?**

**A:** I’m currently working on both _Tournament_ and _Solace of Silence_ , so technically the order goes like this so far: _Well Met Steel_ , _Tournament_ , _Quarantine_ , _The Assassin’s Gift_ , _Solace of Silence_ …  I wrote TAG after WMS only because my muses were screaming to have me insert Altaїr into a story and write him.

 

**Q: Does Robin or Altaїr know about Gisborne being a Templar?**

**A:** Robin and Altaїr don’t know, but for different reasons.  Altaїr has never seen Gisborne’s mutilated tattoo so he wouldn’t know.  All he knows is probably Gisborne was following Hadiya’s orders or following the Sheriff’s orders.  And he didn’t see Gisborne take Hadiya’s Piece from the battlefield since he was more focused on trying to prevent Robin from killing the gang.  Robin doesn’t know that the wolf’s head tattoo belongs to the Templars and doesn’t know that Gisborne trained with Hadiya in the Holy Land.  Most of Robin’s part will be explained in Solace of Silence.

 

**Q: What’s with the reference to Allan nearly betraying the gang?  I thought he did in Season 2.**

**A:** Allan did in the TV series (for which I am pissed at him, but happy that he rejoined them at the end), but you have to remember, my stories are based off of Season 1 since Season 2 really irked me in a big way (dead Marian, historical timeline messing and many other little things).  In my Alternate Season 2 if you want to call it, I continue Robin Hood’s adventures based on the timeframe of history which suggests that Richard returned to France and England around late 1192 early 1193 after signing a peace agreement with Saladin.  Allan’s actions are to be explained in _Tournament_.

 

**Q: What inspired you to write this story?**

**A:** “ _Tattoo? What Tattoo?_ ” got me really intrigued at Crusader!Robin and the fact that he nearly snapped when he found out Gisborne was the one that stabbed him.  I believe that Robin maybe has PTSD from his time in the HolyLands and thus like Rurouni Kenshin (an anime about an ex-hitokiri/assassin dealing with his actions in the Meiji Revolution), has to deal with the consequences of his actions here in England.  Each time he uses his bow or kills someone, I believe he slowly reverts back to what he was in the Holy Lands before he had returned.  This one is basically the fruition of all of the stories up to this point and is the snapping point for where he completely and utterly loses it and gives into the darker side of himself.  Basically it’s for me to go: squee and torture my favorite character in the series.

 

Any other questions can be either PM, emailed, or put on the review for this story!  I hope you all enjoyed this and look forward to more!


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